


Dream a Little Dream

by TheWiseMansFear



Category: Merlin - Fandom, Merthur - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Merthur - Freeform, merlin!top
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-08-19 12:59:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 24,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8209420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWiseMansFear/pseuds/TheWiseMansFear
Summary: After hundreds of years waiting for Arthur to return, Merlin wakes up in Camelot and Arthur never died.





	1. Endless Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> ~Magic Kink~

     _Ages had passed. Ages upon ages. So many ages that everyone he loved had been forgotten or made into a myth. Magic was proclaimed nonsense, a farcical concept played upon by entertainers with white doves and knotted hankies. Here in this awful, chaotic, impatient and material world he waited. Alone. There where his past as well as his future had died, the memory of which the only thing time had not taken from him. And God, did he wish it would. But he could still recall the way Arthur's eyes looked as the life left them, could summon the feel of his last breath. Even now the feeling of utter failure, the guilt, the soul-sucking grief was relentless. Nothing assuaged it, nothing made it okay. He'd have let himself die too, if not for Kilgharrah's words. That small hope that Arthur would rise again was all that kept him eating, kept him getting out of bed, but that desire was spread thin and waning. When would it be his turn to die?_


	2. Waking

     The lake before him wavered and the sky shook. Merlin rose, more agile than his guise should have allowed. His heart pounded. "Arthur." He breathed, the scenery all fading. Maybe he was having a stroke, maybe destiny was finally being fulfilled. At this point he'd take either.  
"I think he's waking up." A feminine voice whispered, a voice he knew. "Gaius!"  
Waking up? What? Gaius?  
No.  
     2013 disappeared.  
     He opened his eyes.  
     His vision was blurry but the fuzzy silhouette above him was one he'd seen in his dreams a hundred times. Dark curls bounced as Gwen drew nearer to him, calling his name. "Merlin?"  
     It hurt. This wasn't real and it hurt. As usual, his body couldn't move, his mouth wouldn't- but it did. The sound of his own voice was loud despite the softness of the syllables and he said again what he'd said a thousand times before in his thoughts and dreams and prayers. "I'm so sorry."  
     "Merlin!" Gaius hurried into the room, a bedroom he'd longed for, for centuries on end. "Gods, Merlin!"  
      His hands were warm as they checked his pulse, touched his face, they were so warm and it felt like safety. Maybe... Maybe he was dead. Maybe this was Avalon. He'd give anything for it to be so. "Where- am I?"  
       He felt sick. Weak. He wasn't sure he'd been heard. But Gaius and Gwen moved in tandem, propping him up so that he could accept a sloppy bit of water. Swallowing was hard but his body did as it was asked to keep from drowning. "You're in Camelot." His mentor answered, "You've been asleep for nearly a week."  
       A week? He felt tears on his face. A week? He'd lived for years before this, there was no way that, that had been the dream. This, this beautiful, painful moment he was having here had to be the falsehood.  
      "Oh, Merlin," Gaius soothed, stroking his hair as Gwen left. "It's alright now. You did it. You saved Arthur and Camelot is safe."  
       "No..." No. Arthur had died in his arms. His body had sunk to the bottom of the lake. It hurt. Everything hurt. Why? Hadn't he suffered enough? Surely his failure was atoned for by now?!  
       Gaius tried to get him to drink again but he let it spill down his front, angry and blinded by grief so thick it was tangible in the air he was breathing. He couldn't do this anymore. He just wanted to stop existing. He wanted a deep black nothingness.  
      Outside a door crashed open and Gaius rose from the bedside. "Sire." He heard the man greet and he didn't even want to look.  
      "Is he alright?" Arthur's words were as sharp and biting as his blade and Merlin couldn't bear it. Why was this happening?  
       He sat up, with what strength he didn't know, perhaps he was running on pain now. Arthur was there, looking at him with that confused look he donned when he didn't know what to do and dressed sloppily as though he'd actually done it himself. Gwen stood behind him, smiling and crying as if this torment was pleasurable.  
     "You're dead." He hissed, face tingling and head swimming. "I watched you die. Why are you doing this to me?"  
Arthur's brows furrowed. "I did die, Merlin." He agreed, "But you brought me back to life."  
     "No." Forcing himself to stand, he knocked away Gaius' hands as they tried to force him back down. "I sent you to the bottom of the lake! I watched you sink! I-" his heart did an uncomfortable flip-flop and his vision shuddered. "I waited for hundreds of years..."  
     Arthur moved then, as his knees lost their will, and the hard chest he fell into was warm. "Merlin, you idiot." The man sighed into his hair. "You've been asleep for a week. Just a week."  
     This body had been growing cold when last he'd held it. But he could feel the heartbeat under his palm, the heat seeping into his chilled bones. This apparition even smelled like Arthur. He wanted so badly to believe this was happening but how could it be? Even if this being was solid, was breathing, was supporting his weight, how could it be real?  
     And what if it was?  
     The thought had him pressing his face into his friend's chest, clinging like a child to a tunic poorly tied. He wept brokenly there, waiting for it to end, hoping it wouldn't. Arthur sank downward to his own knees and encircled him with his arms, showing a patience that was unlike himself.  
     "Arthur." That was Gaius, a warning in his tone. "He's still in bad shape."  
     "It's alright, Merlin." The King soothed, "You need to get back to bed, let Gaius take care of you."  
     But he was lost in regret and turmoil and all he could do was feebly rattle off all the things he'd wanted to say. "I'm sorry." He gasped. "I should have let Mordred die. I should have killed Morgana sooner. I should have been faster, smarter. Every move I made was the wrong one."  
     "It's alright." Arthur stated like a long suffering father. "Calm down now. I'm alive."  
     There it was. The fading. He felt it first in his chest, and knew he'd wake to that bizarre future world again soon. His breath caught in his throat and the room spun. Leaning further into his friend he murmured out a broken goodbye as darkness descended.  
  
     Arthur cursed and rearranged his unconscious friend in his arms. Gaius and Gwen hovered nervously as he returned the sorcerer to his sickbed. "What was that about?" He inquired, crossing his arms and looking down at the dark haired man. "What did he mean he'd waited hundreds of years?"  
     "He certainly cried like he had." Gwen breathed, "It was almost more than I could bear to watch."  
     "With Merlin, who can say?" Gaius sighed, "He must not have known he'd brought you back, Arthur. It must not have been a conscious decision."

 

 

 


	3. Walking With a Ghost

       "Sire, he's not ready to see anyone." Gaius stated, stopping him at the door.  
       Arthur frowned. "What? Why? It's been two days."  
       The old man shook his head. "I don't know. He's been horridly distant. And what's worse, his body is frail. He can hardly walk."  
       "He's eaten?"  
       "Sparingly, but yes. I think that whatever he did to bring you back must have taken a heavy toll on his health." The healer lowered his voice. "He may have used his own life force to revive yours."  
       Arthur's heart sank. "Will he recover?"  
       "He- doesn't seem to want to, My Lord. I can't get him out of bed."  
       Old wounds opened at the thought of his father's melancholy, at the thought Merlin may fall into the same darkness. "I'm the king. He will rise for me."  
       "Arthur, please."  
       "If he won't get up for his own sake, he will for mine. " He growled, unsure if he was angry or hurt or both. "We've proof enough of that." Dying in Merlin's arms, the despair on his friend's face as he faded, nothing had made the pain of those moments go away. Not training. Not feasts. Not even Gwen. He needed Merlin. He needed them to work things out. Nothing would be okay again until that happened.  
Gaius sighed softly and moved aside. "Don't push him too hard, sire."  
        "I wouldn't dream of it, Gaius." He snorted, crossing the room and entering Merlin's humble chambers without prelude.  
        Merlin was propped up on soft pillows, hands laying limply at his sides, on foot on the floor and the other on the mattress. His friend looked up at him, those brilliant blue eyes holding a thousands years of sorrow.  
Arthur's innards tangled at the sight. "I think you've had quite long enough to pout, lazy daisy. There's a lot of work to be done, if we're to figure out this sorcery dilemma."  
       "What's to figure out?" The warlock inquired on a weary breath.  
       "Let's just-" He wanted to say 'start with what happened after I was wounded', but recalling the sheer grief the man had demonstrated upon waking, he thought better of it. Instead he turned to shabby dresser behind him and sorted through the other man's limited laundry. "Let's just start with getting you moving."  
       "I can't walk, Arthur."  
       "Rubbish. You can summon dragons and bring the dead back to life, you can walk."  
       Merlin didn't offer a retort, simply say there looking half asleep and pale. He wouldn't allow this to happen. Throwing the clothes on the bed he came around the side and looked down at his friend expectantly. "Get dressed."  
       "Is that an order?"  
       "Merlin."  
       "Is everyone else still dead?"  
       "I- I didn't think you'd know about that." And he hadn't known how he'd tell him either. But somehow this way wasn't better.  
       "I told you," the brunette muttered, pulling his night shirt off gingerly, winded before he was through. "I've lived years and years beyond your death. I lost everyone."  
       "I don't know what you want me to say about that, Merlin. You've only been asleep a week." Arthur averted his eyes as the other man struggled to pull his tunic on. "I don't understand what you went through, by it was just a dream."  
       "Or this is." Merlin stated, "Seems more likely."  
       He swatted him upside the head, liking the feel of soft hair on his palm maybe a little too much. "Did that hurt?"  
       "You were holding back."  
       "Yes, well, your brain's rattled enough. Did it hurt?"  
       "A bit."  
       "There you go then."  
       Merlin didn't look convinced in the slightest but didn't raise any further protest. Eventually it came time for trousers and to Arthur's dismay it truly seemed his friend couldn't muster energy to stand. Without a word, he pulled Merlin from the mattress and shucked his pants up his thighs in a motion so fluid even he was impressed, and relieved. Shakily, Merlin tied them and Arthur say him back down.  
       "Why are we doing this?" The warlock asked softly as Arthur bent to help him with his boots. "Please don't."  
       "Don't be such a girl, Merlin." He grumbled, "These are new. Do you like them?"  
       "Just let me lay here."  
       No. Not a chance. Merlin had lugged him for miles, desperate and dead tired. The least he could do was walk him about the castle a bit. "We'll go to up to that hill where you can see the whole castle. If you're too tired for the trip back, I'll go for a horse."  
       "Why does it matter whether we sit here or walk there?"  
       "I let my father sit and sulk himself to death. I won't allow you to do the same. Whatever's got you in such a fit, I'll fix it."  
       "Even when I've lied to you all this time?"  
       Arthur slid beneath Merlin's arm and hefted him upwards onto his feet. "I think I'll dodge that subject for now, Merlin, thank you."  
       "If only you were as good at dodging blades."  
       Arthur ducked back from under his shoulder and stood arms akimbo as the other man staggered and buckled like a calf. "What did I do to earn your anger, Merlin? When just a little while ago you were weeping into my chest like an infant?"  
       "It's not you." The warlock growled, accepting his place on the floor too easily for Arthur to accept. "I'm just tired."  
       "You've been asleep for a week!"  
       The door cracked open and Gaius stuck his head in. "What is going on in here?" He asked, hurrying in when he spotted his ward on the ground. "I thought I was very clear to be easy with him Arthur!"  
       "Get out Gaius."  
       "Sire!"  
       "Obey your King!" He shouted, "Now!"  
       "It's okay, Gaius. Just go." Merlin sighed, "I fell. It was my fault."  
       "No more lies, Merlin." Arthur spat, once more pulling his manservant upwards, this time pulling him into his side. "I dropped him there for being a prat. Now go on, Gaius. He's fine."  
       Gaius glowered at him, and then looked at Merlin with a mixture of pity and anguish. "So be it." He half-growled, disappearing again, and by the sound of it, leaving altogether.  
       Merlin threw him a scowl, but he didn't care. Anger was a small price to pay for recovery. "Were you hurt?" He inquired anyway as they moved together into the main room.  
       "No." His friend answered, "Watch your face."  
       "Wha-" A pair of crutches came flying toward him and he jerked his head back to miss having his nose broken by one as Merlin caught it in his hand. "Merlin!" He gasped as his friend shook himself free of him and lowered himself onto the things.  
       "Sorry." The other man muttered, no snark in his tone. "I didn't even think it'd work."

       The going was slow, but that was fine. Arthur had cleared his schedule for the day. Merlin had to stop and rest every few yards, and Arthur tried not to stare at him, but it was hard. It almost felt like, if he wasn't vigilant, his friend would vanish. And that thought hollowed his soul like no other ever had. It was a disconcerting feeling to say the least. It was as if Merlin was a ghost, a wraith that would fall away in the breeze and be gone forever.  
Servants buzzed by them, smiling at them and Merlin accepted their well wishes kindly, but his joviality never touched his eyes. Not once. And it was a painful thing to witness. "You do know that I'm not going to have you executed, don't you?" He inquired after a too long bout of silence.  
       "That's good to hear."  
       By the time they got to the courtyard Arthur was feeling cruel. As much as he'd hoped Merlin's physical state would have improved with movement, it hadn't. The warlock was breathless, pale, and sweating now and he couldn't force him forward a moment longer. "Sorry, Merlin." He whispered, halting them on the steps and helping the other man to sit down. "I'm not a caregiver."  
       "Clearly." Merlin huffed, rubbing at his legs.  
       "What exactly is wrong with you? Do you know?"  
       "No idea."  
       "Gaius thinks that when you brought me back you used your own life force. Did he tell you that?"  
       "We haven't spoken much. I didn't feel like it. Unlike some people, Gaius takes a hint." Arthur watched a pained expression pass over Merlin's face before the man continued. "Sorry, I'm sorry Arthur." He murmured, "I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with myself. I don't know what's real and what's not. My body won't work, my minds a fog, and I'm tired. I just want to stop..."  
       "Stop what?"  
       Merlin's face sunk to his hands. "Living." He whispered, "I'm tired."  
       Arthur's chest constricted. Just like his father. Merlin was in such despair that he- that he wanted... Anger and hurt and confusion sprouted all at once in his heart and all he could do was make a strangled noise before tangling his fingers in Merlin's collar. "You idiot." He hissed, eyes stinging a she fought he urge to grant his servant's desires. "How can you say that?"  
       "You don't understand."  
       "Then help me, damn it!"  
       Merlin took a slow breath and then turned those eyes on him, those soul-filled, broken, beautiful eyes. "You won't believe it, and you can't understand, but I have lived for thousands of years, alone. Waiting for you. You can say it was only a week, but it wasn't, not to me. It was a hell, and I am tired." The man explained with a voice as thread-bare as the rug at Gaius' door. "If this was real- maybe I could... But it can't be. I didn't cast a spell. I didn't heal you. You died, and I didn't do anything."  
      Didn't do anything? Did this person really think that? "This isn't a dream." But whatever his friend was mourning over was. Maybe not to anyone else, but to have reduced Merlin to such a state, it had to be true. "I came back to life. Your dragon was laying on the shores of that lake, you were laying against him, asleep. He was not very happy."  
       "Kilgharrah's not my dragon. He's a friend."  
       "Okay, well, your friend was livid. He told me that you'd done something stupid, bringing me back, that I was destined to die."  
       Merlin sniggered at that and it warmed Arthur's heart. "Sounds like him."  
       "Anyway, he flew us halfway home, but he was tired and a real crank, so I got some horses."  
       "He's old. I'd thought he'd gone away to die." Merlin whispered, "That's why I didn't call for him sooner... I should have."  
       "Merlin. Everything is okay now. Can we just stop this?"  
       "Can we go?"  
       Arthur felt his frown in his soul as Merlin rose shakily. "No. Merlin, I think I should just take you back to Gaius."  
       "Gaius can't help me. If I did use my own life force to bring you back, it's not like he can restore it."  
       "You want to go now?" He huffed, catching his friend's elbow as he swayed. "I thought you just wanted to lay in bed?"  
       "If this is a dream, I want to get one more look at Camelot before I wake up. It's all roads and houses and noise now."  
       "What?"  
       "Never mind."


	4. Magic

        He didn't know what he was doing. It felt obvious. The grass he was sitting in was soft and welcoming and the sunshine was warm and gentle. Arthur sat beside him, brooding. Yet, he didn't know what he was doing.  
His whole being longed for this to be real but how could it be? He was sure that as soon as he accepted it, it would be taken away from him.  
And he was exhausted. So much so that he feared blinking. Not to mention he was terrified of sleep. What if he woke up in that miserable future?  
        "The dragon told me everything- or showed me rather." Arthur whispered, "I saw everything that you did, everything that I did."  
Damn Kilgharrah. There were some things he hadn't wanted to burden Arthur with. "It's fine."  
        "I want you to be my advisor from now on. You'll have your own rooms, a livable salary. Anything you want."  
        "That's not why I did it, Arthur. That's not what I wanted."  
        "I- I'm going to work on the magic thing, Merlin. I promise you. It might take time. People will be wary."  
       "Making a servant an advisor? Won't that be a bit suspect?"  
        "I made commoners knights. I married a maid." Arthur have that half-cocked smile he's so missed. "Besides all of Camelot knows you're more than a servant. They've even made up stories."  
         It was surprising to him that there needed to be any fictional plots for people to make up, as there was certainly already enough true material to work with. "What sort?"  
        Arthur's nose wrinkled. "All sorts."  
        "You mean like- that we're..."  
        "Yes, Merlin."  
        He felt the stirring of amusement in his chest and a smile played across his lips. "Well, there was that one time that you'd been drinking."  
        "Merlin."  
        "I know, I know, I was acting like a girl and you were too drunk to see clearly, right?"  
        The King looked away. "That didn't happen."  
        "Of course not, Sire."  
        It had happened.  
A wave of dizziness washed over him and he tried not to let Arthur notice, which usually was easy as the king wasn't the most observant of creatures. Yet, this time, the blond looked over at him and donned a struck puppy expression. "Are you alright?" He inquired rather uselessly. It was an old fact that no, he wasn't.  
"I'm fine."  
       "You're white as a sheet."  
       "That's sort of my default color."  
       "I'll go back to get some horses for us. It's nearly dinner time anyway."  
       There was suddenly a stirring in the pit that had taken up root in his gut and he held up a shaking hand to stay the other man. "No, I'll get them."  
       "What? Nonsense."  
       "You don't mind riding bareback, do you?" After all this was his dream if it was a dream at all. He'd do what he damn well pleased.  
       Arthur gave him a quizzical look. "I guess not... Why?"  
       A true smile tugged at his lips as he pulled up a thread of his magic and sent it outward, searching toward the stables. The King must have saw his eyes flash and he was a little disappointed when he moved away a bit. Still, the blond didn't run off or curse at him, and that was progress.  
       It was easy, undoing the latches and using compulsion to bend his and Arthur's horses to obey him. They began on their way towards them and Merlin looked at Arthur. "Scare you, did I?"  
       The King scowled and looked toy he path where the horses were galloping. "No. Not at all."


	5. Mine

       "You've been distant since you've been home, Arthur." Gwen stated from the other end of the table. "I know all this with Merlin is bothering you. Is there anything I can do?"  
       He looked up at his beautiful wife and his gut twisted with guilt. "No, darling, I'm fine. It'll get sorted out."  
       "I saw him up and walking this morning. He seems like he's getting better."  
       "Yes." But not recovering. "There's really no need for you to worry yourself."  
       "It's not him I worry for."  
       "I'm fine."  
       Her brown eyes told him that she knew better but thankfully she didn't press. "I'm thinking of a trip to the outlying villages." She said instead, taking a long drink from her goblet, no doubt gauging his reaction.  
       "I don't have time for that now. Maybe in a few weeks."  
       "I was going to go on my own."  
       Was she insane? "No. Absolutely not. Why would you even think that I'd allow that?"  
       "I'll take Leon."  
       "I said no."  
       "Arthur, you may have come back victorious but there is still unrest in much of the kingdom. If this unease isn't settled it could lead to rebellion. Everyone loves you, but they're also afraid and many of them are hungry and without shelter after the raids."  
       "They are welcome here, then."  
       "They have land to tend, Arthur. Let me help them. You know that I can."  
       "And if you're ambushed? Kidnapped? Murdered? Or worse?"  
       "Then you'll know how I felt when you were carried off wounded without my knowing or consent!" She snapped, expression hardening.  
       His brows raised. "So this is revenge?"  
       "You think me so petty?"  
       "Let's not do this." He growled, "Merlin's obstinate enough for the entirety of Camelot. I need you to be the sensible one."  
       Folding her arms, she times her jaw before relaxing back into her chair. "I love Merlin. I truly do, but would it be so hard to have one conversation with my husband that does not also include him?"  
       Arthur's chest tightened. "I'm sorry."  
       "I-" her eyes turned downward, "didn't mean it to sound as awful as it did."  
       "But you're right." He sighed, "He is on my mind quite a bit lately." More than he himself was comfortable admitting. "What he's done, I can't fathom and I have debts I can never repay. It's gnawing away my honor every second of the day and night. Worse still, he won't accept a damn thing I offer!"  
       "Then stop offering." Rising, she stacked the dishes and summoned a servant from the anteroom to take them away for her before returning to kneel by the arm of his chair. "Arthur, I think all that Merlin wanted, he's already received."  
       "Another thing I can't understand."  
       Tracing small circles on the back his hand, she rested her chin on his forearm. "Don't try to figure him out. Just be yourself. Like you always were."  
       "Impossible." He muttered, "I treated him like rubbish. Like an idiot. All the while I was the one being made a fool of."  
       "Arthur." It was a warning and he heeded it gladly. Letting his temper out know would only lead to a fight and he'd be lucky to avoid conflict as it was. Especially because he still intended to deny her permission to go on her little lark.  
       "I'm tired."  
       "I was hoping to leave in the morning."  
       "You're not going."  
       "Arthur-"  
       "This is an order from your king. Step foot out of Camelot without my permission and-"  
       "What?" She rose abruptly. "You'll throw me in the dungeons?"  
       "Maybe I will." He spat though he didn't mean it. His emotions fell to chaos. Why was she so bent on disobeying him?  
        She lifted her chin. "A well-loved dress becomes garbage quickly if it's seams come undone. The same can be said of a kingdom. Those villages are the seams. If you can't tend them, then let me. I'm better at patchwork than you are, anyway."  
        "It's too dangerous."  
        "Says a man who is kidnapped, attacked, or mortally wounded every time you step out the door."  She countered, "I'm as good with a sword as any knight and I can survive without servants and fine linens easily. If something should happen, I'd handle it. I've done it before."  
        "And you've needed rescued."  
        "Not as much as you have."  
        The truth stung. And that particular stinging turned into a burning anger. "Fine!" He snarled, throwing up his hands. "Go! Do whatever you bloody well please!"  
        "This is how you'd have us part?" She breathed, "Like this?"  
       "Don't pin this on me. If I had any say in it, in anything, you'd be curled up beside me talking naughty with the candles out!"  
       "Well, My Lord, that option is certainly beyond your reach." Her hair bounced as she spun around and her gown trailed elegantly behind her as she left.  
       And he swatted an innocent bowl of fruit from the table, it's abused contents scattering in a way that mirrored his thoughts.  
  
        Arthur found Merlin perched comfortably in one of the embrasures of the rampart overlooking the courtyard. The man didn't seem to notice his approach but now he knew better than to assume. This wasn't Merlin his idiot servant. This was- someone else entirely. The thought turned his stomach and he almost fled. But how could he? With as much as he longed to be in this person's presence, there was just no way he could turn around now.  
        It was a bizarre and unwelcomed feeling, but he could not deny he felt empty when he was without this other man too long, as though he wasn't all there. "You look like a gargoyle, sitting like that." He greeted, his jibe half-hearted and void of joviality.  
       "I feel a bit like one." The sorcerer stated, turning those piercing blue eyes on him. "Come to harangue me about the rooms again?"  
       "No. If you want to live in a broom closet, that's your choice." He sighed, "but you will take the salary."  
       Merlin threw his hand. "Yes, alright."  
       "And-" he felt suddenly shy and it was infuriating. "And the job?"  
       "I hardly need a title to be your advisor. I've been doing it for years already."  
       "Yes, well-"  
       Merlin chuckled lightly. "Call me whatever you want to, Arthur. You've never asked my permission before."  
       Why was this so hard? There was a wall between them that was just as well fortified as the ramparts they stood upon and he hated it! "Good. I'll have the tailor fit you for more suitable attire."  
       "Thank you."  
       As if there was anything to thank him for. He was floundering in a sea of debts and a few new shirts and an official title didn't even breech its surface. He wasn't sure anything ever could.  
       "Gwen isn't very happy with you." Merlin stated, turning and putting his feet on the stone walkway. "She had war about her when she left this morning."  
       "Yes, I know." All he'd received in ways of goodbyes was a stiff kiss on the cheek. "She's been hard to get along with recently."  
       "I'm sure it's only stress." The man said, "Don't worry about her. Leon's with her and I charmed her equipment."  
       "What?"  
       "If she so much as draws her sword, I'll know it." Merlin explained easily, a small smile on his face as he did so. It was the first sign of life Arthur had witnessed in days. "Also, if her heart rate elevates too high above its average, a barrier will trigger and encase her in protective magic that'll last about an hour, maybe two."  
More debt. "And that doesn't take anything out of you?"  
       "With the sword and dagger triggers no. Just what energy I used on casting it. If the barrier deploys, though, it might pull on my strength a bit. Not really sure. I've only used it on Gaius once and that was just a quick practice."  
        "And what exactly did you do to get his heart rate elevated?"  
        "Pretended to faint. Flopped right over his workbench. Spilt a few things."  
        He laughed. "That's really bad of you, Merlin."  
        "Yeah, he's still a bit angry. That's why I've made myself scarce." As he rose, the sorcerer wobbled, a sign that he has still not regained his health.  
        "Have you given any thought to why you're not healing?"  
        "Because my subconscious prefers me crippled? I don't know." He sighed, "I'll be spry again once I wake up."  
        "You're not asleep."  
        "I can't know that." He shrugged, carelessly leaning against the merlon nearest to him.  
        Merlin on a merlon. Arthur sniggered, but his amusement was short lived. "That time, when you went to that island and killed Nimwhatsits- the dragon told me- isn't it a thing that if a life is given one has to be taken?"  
        "Yes."  
        "And you brought me back to life."  
        "That's certainly how it appears."  
        He scowled, "So, is it you that's going to die then?"  
        Merlin closed his eyes, the breeze blowing his dark hair and billowing the collar of his tunic. "I really don't know, Arthur."  
        A sudden anger woke in his heart. "Well, with as willing as you are to throw your life away for me, that's probably the case. That's why you're not getting any better, you're bloody dying!"  
        "Or, my body just hasn't recovered from the mass expenditure of energy I used to pull your soul back from Avalon." The other man stated calmly, "I could have given you years of my own life. I could have sucked life from the land nearby. I don't know what happened, if anything happened at all."  
       "Then call your dragon." He suggested, "Ask him."  
       "He isn't my dragon."  
       Arthur rolled his eyes. "He has to do as you ask. He comes when you call. Does that not make him yours?"   
       Merlin cocked a brow and stunned him with his cerulean gaze. "Are you mine too, then? Am I yours?"   
        His heart began to beat a touch too fast upon hearing those words. "What?"  
       "I have to do as you ask of me. You'd come if I called. Does that mean we belong to each other?"  
       Yes. That's exactly what it meant. No amount of fighting the fact had ever changed it. "I get it. Why don't you call Kilgharrah. He might know what happened."  
       "If I call, and he doesn't come, then he's dead." Merlin breathed, lowering his eyes. "I don't know if I want to deal with any more dead friends just now."  
      And Arthur couldn't ask him to. "Alright."  
      Merlin snorted. "You're supposed to tell me to stop being such a girl."


	6. Debt

         Merlin felt it, the tension, the words unspoken. Hell, it was half his fault, but he wasn't even sure this was reality so why should he bother to fix things with a fake friend? Making amends with an apparition would only stir salty fingers in already festering injuries.  
         On the other hand, this could be real. In which case, he wanted the fuliginous aura around their relationship cleansed. As soon as possible. That was why, at nearly midnight, he was fighting his way up the god awful flight of stairs that would lead to Arthur's chambers.  
        As if the late hour wasn't enough to put fatigue in his bones, his strange and seemingly irresolvable state of weakness was an infuriating hinderance. His magic was alive and well but it seemed his body had finally had enough of the Old Religion's shenanigans.  
        He paused to gasp his lungs back into functioning order at the top before continuing onward. Maybe he would take those rooms after all. At least they'd be a lot closer to Arthur. Right beside him, in fact. He smiled as he imagined Uther rolling in his grave. A warlock, an acknowledged warlock, spending his nights right next to the king of Camelot.  
        Oh. That didn't sound right. But he didn't mind the twist of it, really. Arthur was handsome, and there was a bond between them that no one else could share in. He wondered just how detailed Kilgharrah had been in his secret letting. To know all that he'd done, and to have shown Arthur, the dragon must have first been within his head.  
        Interesting.  
        There were guards at the door but they didn't question his coming, nor did they stop him from walking straight in without knocking. He was quiet as he entered, but there was little need. The king was awake, staring vacantly at a low burning fire from the comfort of his chair.  
        Upon his arrival, Arthur sat up. "Merlin? Is everything alright?"  
        "Aren't going to scold me for not knocking?"  
        "It's nearly midnight."  
        "I know." Without thinking about it, he moved to put more wood on the fire, tidying the pile as he did so and sweeping bits of bark into the hearth. "I couldn't sleep."  
        "Come away from there." Arthur sighed, though no real authority hung in his tone. "You're not a servant anymore."  
        "I can't very well have a conversation with you if I'm freezing my giblets off though, can I?" He snorted, sinking down to sit against the wall of the fireplace, the radiating heat a comfort.  
        "I have more chairs." The king muttered, throwing his hand a bit, as was his habit, before returning his chin to it.  
        "I'm comfortable here."  
        "What was it you needed that couldn't wait until morning?"  
        "Couldn't sleep."  
        Arthur snorted. "I thought you were already asleep."  
        "S'not funny, Arthur."  
        "No." The king relaxed back into his chair. "I know. Living a whole life in one day was hard. Can't imagine multiple."  
        "What do you mean?"  
        "The dragon, he showed me all of- everything- in a dream. Our whole time together. I was overwhelmed to say the least, much to his amusement."  
        "He can be an ass."  
        "Why are you here?" Arthur sighed, "Is there something you need to talk about?"  
        "It's you, I think, who needs to talk." He answered, giving his friend a knowing look. "Let's hear it. You saw everything, so-" he didn't want to know and yet he couldn't help but let the question fall from his mouth. "What's got you most angry with me? Besides me having lied to you. That's given."  
        "I don't-" Blue eyes searched the fire for vocabulary and Merlin waited patiently, heart in his throat and innards tying themselves into knots. "There's nothing to say." Arthur finally finished.  
        "Nothing?" That was not even the least bit believable.  
        "I said everything I need to say before..."  
        _'Just hold me.'_ Like a knife's edge the memory of those words stung the flesh of his heart, but he pressed onwards anyway. He knew Arthur would give it up. The man was always more talkative when he was tired. "You didn't know everything then. There wasn't time to tell you. I can see that it bothers you."  
        "Well of course it bothers me, Merlin." Arthur shifted uncomfortably. "I was lied to. I was deceived. All this time I thought- I thought that I had achieved so much and really, I've done nothing. I'm a man built upon lies, and a man who owes a debt so deep that repayment is impossible. In more ways than one you've taken my honor and yet it was for love of me that you did it. That's what I can't accept."  
        "Stolen honor?"  
        "No, you twit!" The king spat, "The ridiculous amount of just- idiocy! The- the amount of just- how? How can lies be made noble? How can sins be twisted into something worthy of praise? Disloyalty is loyal? It's like, with you, there's no rules!"  
         He had to laugh at that. "There are many, many rules, actually. Arthur can't know who you really are, Merlin! No one can see your magic! Don't let Uther find out! You can't save those people, it'll be suspicious!" He mimicked in almost perfect voices and then was left near breathless from the effort. "A lot of rules."  
         They fell quiet for an eternal minute before Arthur spoke again. "I can't fathom it, the depth of your dedication. I do not even think that my own wife could be as loyal to me as you are. And I've treated you far worse."  
         "Uhm," he wanted to defend Gwen, but he wasn't sure how. "Well, you didn't exile me."  
         "But I would have had I found out about your magic."  
         "Not killed?"  
         "I'd just have sent you home to your mother and been murdered by some other disgruntled sorcerer the very next day."  
         He chuckled, "More likely the same day."  
         "Whatever the case, I don't know how to act around you anymore."  
         "I'm still the same person, Arthur."  
         "No." The king scrunched his face in the way he always did when denying something particularly untrue. "You were a servant, now you're a sorcerer."  
         "Warlock. And I was that first."  
         "And yet you chose to run around acting an idiot? For what? You could have had anything! You could have had the entire kingdom!"  
         "Yes. I could have. I could have had many, many things. But I didn't want the kingdom, Arthur."  
         "But you wanted that girl."  
         Freya. "I did." Or rather, he'd wanted the thought of her. The thought of running away from the cruel yoke fate had or upon his shoulders, the thought of being with someone he didn't have to hide from.  
        "And I killed her."  
        "You didn't know."  
        "Of course I didn't!" Arthur snarled, "I didn't know anything!"  
        Merlin watched his friend seethe. The hurt in his voice put hurt in his own heart, but this was a process they'd had to skip quickly through before. Now, they had time. If Arthur needed to be furious and confused and hurt before coming to terms with it, that was fine.  
       "Do you want me to leave?" He finally asked after watching Arthur stare intently into the fire for a few moments.  
"No." The blond answered softly. "How can I claim to be any sort of friend when I spent everyday with you and didn't know a damn thing about you?"  
"You knew the important things."  
       Sitting up, the blond massaged his temples and closed his eyes. "I didn't just see."  
       A pang of fear released beneath his sternum. What had the dragon done? "What?"  
       "I felt it. Your conflict. Your heartbreak. Every wound. It was as if I were you."  
       "That is not something I would have wanted for you. I did not ask Kilgharrah to do such a thing, Arthur."  
       "I know." His friend spat.  
       "I'm sorry you were put through that."  
       "Because it was bloody awful or because you didn't want me to know just how much I have hurt you?"  
       Both. "You've not hurt me."  
       "Do not lie to me again!" Arthur shouted, rising from his chair, eyes blazing. "Stop protecting me!"  
       "Careful jumping about like that or you might hit your head." He scoffed, "Might lose consciousness and miss something important."  
       "Merlin."  
       "I don't know why you're blaming yourself for anything. I mean most of the turmoil I've lived through is my own doing. Mistakes I've made caused the deaths of a lot of people, yours included. My failure-"  
      "No man should have to carry the weight of the future by himself." Arthur's hand cut the air. "If there is any one to blame it is the god that put that on you."  
      "Yes well, a lot of good passing blame does now." Pushing himself upwards was a challenge as his body longed for the warmth of the fire, but he preferred looking Arthur in the eyes. "These wounds, yours and mine, there's likely no healing them. I know that."  
     The king took a slow breath through his nose and then gave his cheek a small bite before speaking. "I don't want to lose you."  
      "You haven't. Though I can't say how."  
      "I saw my death through your eyes."  
      "It was not my best moment, for certain."  
      "You love me that much?"  
      "Clearly."  
      "Why?"  
      The despair in Arthur's voice was agonizing but as always he donned a goofy smile. "It's a wonder you needed a dragon to tell you that, with as often as I've told you so myself."  
      "You've never said it."  
     Their eyes met and Merlin raised his brows. "Haven't I?"  
  
~~~

  
         "Haven't I?" Merlin's raven brows perked as if to say 'really Arthur? Maybe your becoming blind as well as fat.'  
         "You look unwell." It was the truth, but he gave it only to change the subject. He'd felt Merlin's love for him, the depth of it, and just thinking about it pulled at his soul. "You should sit."  
         The warlock's face fell a bit and he sighed softly, crossing the room to the window. What he was thinking, Arthur couldn't guess. What was it that weighed the corner's of his friend's mouth down in such a fashion? He wanted to ask, but he was not such a courageous king now, not when he knew hardly any of his great victories had been his own. He was a damsel in distress, if anything. And just what did that make Merlin?  
         "It's a cool night." The other man mused softly, hands setting in the stone sill.  
         Four years earlier, maybe Arthur would not have noticed the subtle way Merlin's words shook, or the almost invisible quake in his arms. But now, in that moment, it was all he could see. "Winter will be here before you know it." He mumbled, moving instinctively closer to his counterpart.  
         Merlin snorted. "My favorite."  
         "Should be better for you this year. No trudging about in the elements fetching this or that for me."  
         "You mean to retire me then?"  
         "How long has it been since you've slept?"  
         "I don't mind errands."  
         "Merlin."  
         "And I've got those new boots now."  
         "Does Gaius know you're here?" He inquired, though he had a very good feeling that no, the physician did not. "Are you afraid of falling asleep?"  
         "Wouldn't you be?"  
         "You've woken up here every morning for nearly a week."  
         The man's eyes were dull as he looked over his shoulder at him. "I woke up there every morning for nearly a thousand years."  
         "Please don't look at me that way." He breathed without thinking. To utter such a plea flaunted his weakness almost blatantly and his pride cried out in anger. He took a half-step back. "I mean-" He meant with that same dead, dimmed look his father had given him. "Just- go get some sleep. We can meet for breakfast, a late one. You could use a lay in."  
        "I preferred you throwing goblets at me." Merlin murmured, turning from the window, his lashes lowering in a too-slow blink. "Rather than all this- pity."  
        "It's not pity, Merlin." Arthur snapped, annoyed that his feelings were so easily construed and even more so that he didn't ever seem to have the right words to fix them. That only ever happened with this man. With Gwen his vocabulary came easily and he had many times come up with heroic speeches out of nowhere to boost the morale of his knights. But Merlin? He never seemed to get it right. "I'm just worried about you." His stomach warmed, "You've hidden everything from everyone for so long. I just want you to feel that-" Damn it! His ego was stomping it's feet and demanding he do something manly, but all he was lost in the whimsy of his idiot heart. "I want you to feel that you can trust me. "  
        Merlin's expression shifted into the one he used when telling someone something they should already know. The one where he lowered his chin a bit and used his nose to aim the disapproval he was shooting from his eyes. "I do trust you, Arthur." He said, just as Arthur had anticipated.  
        Not true. His mind railed against the statement vehemently. "You don't. Or you would have told me sooner."  
       "You know that's not why."  
       "I can understand the first few years, Merlin. I really can. But even after I became king? Even after everything?" A fresh hurt stirred the embers of his irritation. "You waited until I was dying. You waited until it was too late. If I had really died, everything you worked for would have been for nothing."  
       "I was afraid."  
       "If you trusted me what would there be to fear?"  
       There it was. The silence that confirmed his accusations rang true. And it hurt. It didn't matter how much the dragon had let him experience. It didn't matter to what depth Merlin loved him. The thought that he had not earned the trust of someone who had, had his for so long made him feel more like a failure than the loss of any tournament could have.  
       Merlin staggered forward a bit. "Don't be- such a clotpole."  
       "I'm the clotpole?" Arthur forgot all emotion but concern then, and he caught his friend by the arm as he swayed. "You need to get some rest. You'll never recover if you keep this up."  
       "I didn't want things to change."  
       "They have to." He argued gently, guiding Merlin to his bed as the man half-swooned in his arms. "This especially."  
       "What?" The warlock mumbled, eyelids fluttering as he fought fatigue.  
       "This self-destructive nonsense you're so prone to." Arthur answered, shoving his friend's shoulder back into his pillows. "This is an order from your King, Merlin."  
       "Arthur?"  
       "Go to sleep."  
       Merlin lost consciousness. That had to be the explanation because he knew better than to think the man would actually obey him. Arthur stood there for a few minutes, contemplating taking off his friend's boots and covering him with the duvet, but- the truth was he could not linger here. There were already rumors, and they alone could ruin him. Even as his hand itched to make his friend more comfortable, his feet took him to the door. "Guards." He called quietly. "Merlin's fainted. Please send for Gaius."


	7. Titles

  
    "Let's have you lazy daisy!" Arthur's voice called as the curtains were pulled back to let in an atrocious amount of sunlight.  
    Merlin shielded his eyes sluggishly. "What-" this was not his bed. He sat up quickly, causing his vision to blacken and his head to swim. "Arthur?"  
    "You fainted and it was late." The king explained briefly, "I told Gaius to let you be."  
    "Wait, where did you sleep?"  
    "Don't get too excited, Merlin," the blond snorted, disappearing behind the screen and discarding his sleepwear. "I slept in the rooms I had made up for you. Just next door."  
    Mind still muddled from sleep and a little wobbly, he got out of bed and fetched Arthur a fresh tunic and trousers from the wardrobe. He chose red, because it was his personal favorite on the king. "You have court today?"  
    "Not until before dinner. Make sure you're in attendance, won't you?"  
    "Always am." He responded, placing the clothing over the screens edge.  
    Arthur stepped out, already dressed in white. "Merlin? You're not a servant any more." He reiterated.  
    "Then what am I, exactly?"  
    "Currently?" Arthur smirked, "a mess."  
    Instinctively, Merlin flinched away as the king's hand reached out for him suddenly. Arthur looked quizzical for a moment and then hurt before donning the calm befitting the knight he was. "Sorry," Merlin muttered, fixing his bed head sloppily. "I'll see about breakfast."  
    "Merlin."  
    Maybe it was the tension in the air that caused his next words to be sharp, but he blamed it on just waking. "If I'm not here to take care of you, then what's the point of being here at all?" Because he's known no other life. Dreamed of it, sure. Longed for, maybe. But now that the time had come and he was not a servant, he couldn't fathom being anything more. Hell, it almost felt like being less.  
    Arthur started to speak but stopped, his face taking on that pouty expression he was so prone to when confused or sad. "I don't know what you want me to do." The knight finally confessed, irritation foremost in his tone. "Do you?"  
    "There's so much to figure out." He breathed, "Im sorry Arthur. I don't know what I'm doing anymore."  
    "I could give you a few orders, if that will make you feel better."  
    It would, he decided. "Alright."  
    "First, go down to the tailors, get fit for your new clothes, after that, pack your things and get them to your new rooms. Ask George to help or do it yourself, I don't care which." Arthur pointed a finger at him and raised his brows. "And no more swooning. I don't want you late for dinner."    
    This felt better, and that was probably very unhealthy. Merlin accepted it anyway and was grateful. "Yes, sire."

***

        "He won't like it?" Arthur frowned at the physician, "Surely his mother would benefit."  
        "I don't think Merlin will accept anything that takes him far from you, sire." Gaius stated, absently straightening his work station. "A duchy will require he be present. I don't think bestowing a dukedom on him will be a good thing."  
          But he quite liked the sound of the title. Duke Merlin - wait, what the hell was his last name? It was possible he didn't even have one. Many peasants didn't. He could use that Druid name, of course. Duke Merlin Emrys. Yes. That sounded very fine indeed. Regal, almost. Wait- why was he... His frown deepened and Gaius' eyebrow did that thing it did. "He wants to be a servant, Gaius."  
          "He wants to be with you, sire."  
          "He's a mystery."  
          "Wrapped in a riddle." The old man agreed, "I think that you know the only title Merlin will happily accept."  
          "I do." He sighed, defeated. "Alright. When he gets back from his fitting, please keep him here as long as you can. I told him that I didn't have meetings until later but really I have them all day. There's a lot of things to go over. Also keep him out of the kitchens." He turned to leave but spun back on his heel. "Oh, and Tom will be down in a bit to deliver Merlin's outfit for this evening. Be sure he looks presentable."  
           "As long as there's not a hat, sire."  
           Arthur chuckled at the memory of Merlin's feathered hat. "There isn't."  
           "Shall I give him a haircut as well?"  
           "No, I rather like the idea of his hair long."  
           There was that eyebrow again.  
           "I- you know, it'll look more-"  
           Gaius smiled. "Stately, sire?"  
           "Yes." He turned again. "Stately."


	8. Acknowledged

  
  
      
  
     "This is a bit much for dinner..." Merlin muttered, looking down at his fine tunic and new boots as Gaius tossed a blue cape about his shoulders.  
    "I feel obligated to tell you this Merlin," the old man sighed, crossing his new chambers to fetch a potion bottle from his bag. "This isn't just dinner."  
    Instantly his nerves alighted, dancing and twisting until he began to sweat. "What?"  
    "Arthur desperately wants to make things right between you. I was able to talk him out of making you a duke, at least."  
    "A duke?" He laughed incredulously. "Me?"  
    Gaius placed the bottle in his palm and reached up to tame an unruly wave of his hair. "Arthur's used to rewarding bravery with land and titles."  
           "This is a feast, isn't it?" He groaned, in no way wanting to be made the center of attention.  
            "I'm afraid so." Gaius tapped the cork of the medicine. "Take this if you're feeling tired. I added a little something to help with nerves too."  
            "Does it come in cherry flavor?"  
             The physician looked confused for a moment but had no time to reply before an insistent knock came at the door. A second later it opened and the king of Camelot filled the doorway in full dress, looking royal and immaculate. "Are you ready yet?" Arthur questioned, gaze purposely downcast.  
            "What exactly is it that I need to be ready for?" He asked, folding his arms.  
            "You'll see."  
            "I'm not a fan of surprises."  
             Arthur's smile lit the room, but Merlin didn't have the privilege of seeing it reach his eyes. "You'll like this one."  
            "Will I?" He couldn't help but smile too. Arthur was trying so hard for him and it made him feel warm.  
             "Let's find out." The blond beckoned him into the hall and when he turned to call for Gaius, the old man waved him off.  
             "I'll follow in a minute. I need to gather my things."  
             Merlin didn't argue, mostly because he didn't have a choice. Arthur had already ushered him out into the corridor. Clearly, his friend was very excited. But after standing and being fitted for a new wardrobe for hours and then packing and moving, he was so tired. Which was very frustrating, because he was absolutely sick of feeling feeble all of the damn time. The annoyance reminded him of the medicine in his hand.  
It would give him a boost that he sorely needed but he didn't want to make Arthur worry. Then again, falling asleep in his plate would just be rude. They'd just reached the large double doors when he popped the cork and downed the bitter liquid like a shot. He'd hoped Arthur wouldn't notice. However,  it seemed the days where all his actions were overlooked where completely over.  
           "What was that?" The king asked, "Are you alright?"  
            "S'for nerves." He dismissed, face still scrunched in disgust at the taste.  
            Arthur gave him a disbelieving scowl before continuing into the great hall. He said something to the crowd, it was loud and excited, but Merlin didn't hear the words. Everyone was smiling at him, clapping. All the knights were there, the court, Geoffrey, his mother.  
           And she looked like a princess.  
           Her hair was done up with flowers. Jewelry he could never afford to buy her adorned her neck and wrists. There was even a garnet the size of a shilling sitting on one of her work worn hands. But it was her eyes that shimmered brightest, her smile that called forth his own. The room quieted as she rose and ran to him, her silk gown cool against his arms as he accepted her embrace.  
            "Merlin," she breathed, kissing his cheeks. "you did it."  
           He hugged her. He couldn't speak. He could hardly breathe. It had been so long since he'd seen her. So long since he'd felt this safe. In another world he'd watched her die an old woman, but here, here she was alive and healthy and in his arms.  
           It didn't matter that they had an audience or that this wasn't proper etiquette. This was his mother and he had missed her. "I'm so proud of you." She grinned, pulling away gently.  
            "Careful Hunith, he's weepy enough. Don't get him started already." Arthur teased.  
           Merlin could only watch astonished as his mother gave Arthur the same vigorous embrace he'd just received. The king returned it happily and for some reason Merlin grew anxious.  
           Because this was too perfect.  
           The feeling of disease did not dispel throughout three courses, nor during the entertainment and the ale. It was there through the toasts and the cheers and the stories. Like a rotting beast it laid inside of him, fouling up everything with its bloated stench. This was too good to be true. This couldn't happen. What if it wasn't real?  
          Finally, Arthur, who had efficiently drank his weight in wine, stood, with a great deal of help from the table, and called the room to silence. "So, let me get straight to the point." He began, pausing to take a drink before pointing his goblet and forefinger into Merlin's face. "This man, is my best friend. My very stupid, heroic and magical best friend."  
          His mother laughed into her hand and patted his leg comfortingly beneath the table. "Does he often do this?"  
          "One time I had to stop him from running about without his trousers." He answered her quietly.  
          "Hey, shush," The king chided, "I'm trying to make a speech here, Merlin."  
           "Sorry." He scoffed, "Go on then."  
    "As I was saying, Merlin may not look like much, but- wait- I had this memorized." The king squinted and then frowned. "Not only is Merlin my best friend but he is an excellent speech writer! If he'd have written this one I'd be marveling you right now."  
    "You don't have to make a speech, Arthur. The dinner and bringing my mother to visit was enough." Merlin assured him.  
    Blond hair caught the candlelight as Arthur shook his head. "No, no, but that's not all!"  
    "Still, you should probably cut the speech short before you fall over."  
            "Tomorrow, I'm going to make a proclamation." Arthur announced, ignoring his suggestion. "To lift the ban on magic." Again the goblet was thrown in his direction, liquid swishing out and down the sides, stickying the king's fingers. "And you, Merlin, will be standing there with me as the official court sorcerer."   
             Everyone clapped and smiled.  
             Merlin waited to wake up.  
        
  
      "Now things feel a bit more normal." Merlin stated as he hefted his king back to his chambers.  
        "Couldn't you just levitate him back to his room?" Percival asked, easily supporting Arthur's other shoulder.  
         "That's what we have you for." He retorted, "We're nearly there, anyway."  
         The two lugged Arthur to his chair and Merlin threw a few logs in the fireplace. "I'll look after him now." He stated, alighting the wood with a thought before turning back to the large knight.  
        "Merlin..." The man's eyes held caution and question and pain all at once and his stomach sank. "Could you- is there a way to..."  
        "Percival." Arthur sat up, made a face, and then let his head lull back. "He can't."  
        "Oh." The knight looked crestfallen. "Well, I just thought since you brought Arthur back, that you might be able to do the same for Gwaine."  
        "I'm so sorry." He whispered, heart clouded with grief. "I want him back too, but even if I brought him back, he wouldn't be Gwaine. Not really."  
         "But you brought Arthur back."  
         "Gwaine's been gone too long... I-"  
         "We all want him back." Arthur mumbled, "but if Merlin says it can't, or shouldn't, be done, then that's they way of it."  
          Percival tensed and the bowed. "Yes, sire."  
          As the knight left the room, Merlin rubbed at his face before dropping his cape and placing it on the table. "Arthur, maybe you should wait a few weeks before making your announcement."  
          "Why?"  
          "Things are still really chaotic." He answered, moving around the king's chair in order to face him. "The kingdom is shaken. People are nervous enough as it is. I don't want you to stir up trouble so soon after escaping it."  
          Arthur fumbled with his chainmail, half-falling from his seat before giving up in such a nonchalant manner that it was humorous. "If you think so, then I'll wait." He muttered, "I just thought that, that's what you wanted."  
          "Here, stand up." Merlin ordered gently, aiding his king in rising. "I just want Camelot safe and secure first. Then we can worry about magic."  
          "I worry about magic daily." The king confessed as his chainmail was wrestled off of him.  
          Merlin wasn't sure how to take the comment, so he stayed quiet, helping his friend out of his gambeson while simultaneously supporting the brunt of his weight. Arthur fell back into his chair afterward and he bent to assist with his boots. All the while, his friend remained silent.  
    Fetching nightclothes, he returned to find Arthur with his face in his hands. "Are you going to be sick?" He asked, dumping fruit from the bowl on the table rather than dashing for the chamber pot.  
    Arthur accepted it but only stared down into it with a forlorn expression that was almost more worrisome than his vomiting would have been. "You wouldn't ever enchant me."  
          "No. I wouldn't." He confirmed slowly, kneeling beside the chair. "Do you feel as though you have been?"  
          "I love Gwen."  
          "I know."  
          "But."  
          Not good. "No, you do. I know you do."  
    Arthur nodded, turning to him wearing a look he'd only ever reserved for his wife. "I know your magic isn't a toy, but- will you show me?"  
          Merlin's heart rocked against his sternum so hard it hurt. Arthur's face was only inches from his own. Those pouty lips begging for something he feared to give. "Yes, alright. What do you want to see?"  
          "Anything."  
          Why did that sound so much like kiss me? Pulse still thrumming wildly, he moved away from the temptation. He pulled a chair away from the table and sat it near the hearth, diagonally from the king who was waiting with an uncharacteristic patience.    
          After all this time wanting to show Arthur that magic could be beautiful, he hadn't the faintest idea how. Butterflies were all well and good, but would that impress the king? Floating candlelight seemed corny to him now and he'd already made a flame-dragon. So what? "I can't think of anything."  
Arthur grunted. "Not surprising."  
            "Sorry."  
    "Your father's what bothers me most."  
    Whoa. Okay. "Why?"  
    "If I hadn't been around, you probably could have used magic to save him."  
    "My healing abilities weren't strong enough then. They're actually not my strong point even now." He sighed, "Do you want to sleep in that, or no?"  
    The king's head lulled a bit as he looked down himself. "No?"  
            "Well, come on then." Merlin shoved the collar of the nightshirt over the blonde's head and crossed the room to turn down the bedclothes. It felt like fleeing, because it was. Fleeing from those big, doleful eyes that searched him for something he couldn't name.  
            Moments later, Arthur was staggering to the mattress, kicking out of his trousers gracelessly before flopping down into the pillows. "I told you not to cry. Hell, even I cried when my father died."  
           "Arthur, really, it's fine. I'm sort of a crier, anyhow."  
           "He didn't get a proper burial."  
           "Arthur."  
           "Did you ever tell your mother?"  
           A drunk Arthur was a chatty Arthur. "No." He replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I didn't want to burden her with it."  
           "But she's your mother, isn't that what they're for? Hugging and comforting and what not?"  
           He laughed at that. "Yeah, I guess so."  
           "And may I just say, your mother is a splendid hugger. Very- comforting."  
           "You need to go to sleep."  
          "I could make her the official court comforter."  
          "Goodnight."  
          Arthur caught his hand as he rose and his insides all shuddered. He'd seen this man naked before. He'd dressed him, carried him, held him, but this contact was not the same as those times. He felt the shift of desire in his marrow and it both alarmed and alighted him. "What's the matter?" He queried gently, not turning to look at his king for fear of being drawn in by that longing gaze.  
         "There were things I didn't say that day. Things that maybe I'd just then realized."  
         "If you want to tell me something like that, don't do it when you're drunk."  
          "I may not be brave enough later."  
          "Then it isn't meant to be said."  
          The king released his hand and the sough of sheets told Merlin he'd rolled over. "Perhaps not." The blond murmured, words already thick with sleep. "Goodnight, Merlin."


	9. Opacus

  
  
  
        He hadn't made magic legal. Not yet. Because Merlin had requested he wait. Gwen had been home three days now, after two weeks being gone, and yet, it felt as though she hadn't yet returned. The nights they'd shared together we're just as cold as the mornings were, her countenance as brisk as the early autumn air. And honestly? He didn't have it in him to try and fix whatever wrong had caused it.  
         That wasn't to say he hadn't asked her, multiple times, only that her frosty replies of 'nothing' and 'I'm fine, Arthur,' had chilled his want to know.  
         Merlin seemed equally as distant, but as always, the warlock presented himself warmly anyway. This didn't mean it was okay, and that it didn't irk the king to the point of over-prattishness. He'd already snapped at multiple servants only because they weren't the one he wanted and he was sure the Knights were avoiding him after a particularly fierce sparring match with Sir Leon.  
          The room was cold because he'd chased off the servant trying to stoke the fire, his lunch had not arrived, and his wife was in the lower town spreading goodwill she wouldn't share with him. All in all? He was being an ill-tempered ass.  
         "My Lord." That was Hunith's voice. He'd offered a home and a monthly allowance but she'd insisted upon working if she was going to stay. So, he'd reluctantly employed her to tend the gardens.  
         Looking up from the paperwork he was efficiently not doing, he found the woman in the doorway, her warm brown eyes holding a concern that chased off his irritation.  
         "What's the matter?"  
         "I'm sorry sire, I don't mean to intrude, but- it's about Merlin."  
         "Gotten into some trouble, has he?"  
           She wrung her hands. "I just- he seems off. And I know it's trivial, bringing this matter to the king, but even as a boy he kept his pains to himself and he won't tell me no matter how I ask. He doesn't want to trouble anyone."  
           This was just the excuse to leave his work unfinished that he'd been wanting. "I'll talk to him."  
           "Thank you, sire."  
            "It's nothing, and call me Arthur, please." Rising, he set his work aside. "I prefer you a mother over a maid."  
             Her smile was warm as she curtsied. "Then, as a mother, I ought to warn you, if you keep working in this cold, you'll catch one."  
            He chuckled, the first good feeling he'd had all day. "Thank you."  
            Another curtesy and she was gone. He stalked around his chambers for a few minutes more, crossing to the window and then back again to his table more times than were necessary. If Merlin didn't want to trouble his own mother it was doubtful he'd want to open up to him, but he'd said he'd try, so he would. Even if he feared their time together as much as he longed for it.  
           Because he wanted the warlock. There was no other way to put it. No way around it. It was a core-deep need that rocked him in ways he'd never thought to be moved. If he were not such an honest creature, he'd have denied it even to himself until the day of his true death.  
  
    He found the warlock in the woods just outside of the city. Merlin, who was busily scanning the forest floor for herbs, did not know he'd been located. Arthur couldn't resist the temptation and slunk about the trees, watching his friend's sure movements.  
    The raven-haired man wore his old clothes, accompanied by the sword and belt he'd been gifted weeks earlier. Arthur smiled at the memory as Merlin went on walking the forest.  
    " _Arthur, this isn't necessary." Merlin said, unsheathing the grand sword from its intricately decorated sheathe.  
    "No one said you had to use it." He snorted, "But, you should at least have one, in case magic fails you one day."  
    "Thank you_."  
     _"Is it light enough_?"  
    The memory was interrupted by the snap of a twig beneath his boot. As Merlin straightened like a deer on alert, Arthur slid behind a tree and scarcely breathed. Why? He didn't know. It just seemed the thing to do.  
    His heart galloped as an eerie silence fell around them. The air chilled, and moisture clung to his skin from now where. And then it warmed, caused his flesh to tingle and his nerves to sing with some strange excitement that caused an alarming stirring just north of his kneecaps.  
    "It's me." He gasped, realizing that this feeling could only be magic. The feeling dispersed, mostly. He rounded the trunk of the tree in time to catch the gold fading from Merlin's eyes and was glad for the length of his tunic when the sight only furthered his odd feelings. "Your mother's worried."  
    "So you decide to stalk me?"  
    Apparently. "You drew your sword." He veered off topic quickly with the observation.  
    "And I might have used it." The warlock sighed, sheathing the thing in a graceful manner Arthur would not have expected of him a month ago.  
    "What magic did you use?"  
    "I just opened my senses. It's a technique where you use your soul to see things your eyes can't."  
           Arthur wrinkled his nose. He'd been covered in Merlin's soul. And he'd liked it. A lot. "Isn't that dangerous?"  
          "Could be, I guess. If I tired myself out doing it." Merlin shrugged. "Why is my mother worried? I've only been gone an hour."  
          "I don't think that's what she's concerned with."  
          "If it's about the headaches, don't bother. I've told her time and again, it's nothing."  
          "Headaches?"  
         The other man made a face. "So, not about the headaches then?"  
         "What headaches?"  
          "It's nothing."  
          Being lied to made him angry. Livid, even. "Merlin, have we not had enough lies between us?"  
          The warlock scowled. "I am entitled to a bit of privacy, I think."  
          "Fine."  
          Like the opacus clouds that had come across the sky, so did the quiet darken the space between them. Arthur stood in its center, storming with chaotic feelings he could not more control than the weather and as thunder reflected his demeanor in the distance, he marched across the leaf-litter and took Merlin by the elbow.  
          The warlock's reaction was to turn a blue glare on him, challenge etching heaven's lightening across his irises. "What are you doing?" He breathed, low but firm like the wind that had begun to rip at the trees. "We should go back."  
         "Can we?"  
         "Obviously, it's your castle, Arthur."  
         "You know what I mean."

~~  
        Go back? To what? To being servant and master? To being easy friends? To being whatever the hell they were before Arthur had died and all deception was dropped? Before Arthur had started giving him those not so subtle bedroom eyes? He didn't know, and he had other things to worry about just now.  
       Like the fact that nearly everyday for the past week he'd been attacked by some horrible screeching inside his brain that made his knees buckle beneath the agony or that he was half certain already what it was and that it was no good or easy choice to go and correct it. But most presently, the fact that a storm was rolling in and they were not going to make it back before it hit. Oh yeah, and Arthur was gripping his arm so tightly that it hurt.  
      "I can't change what's happened." He hissed truthfully, "Let's get back."  
      "If you were dying, would you tell me?"  
      "Arthur why are you so fixated on that? I'm fine." Tearing his arm free, he began back toward the castle. "And you call me a girl!"  
      "We still don't know whose life was traded!" The king snapped, jogging to catch up. "And you still get worn out easily and now the headaches-"  
      "It was Kilgharrah." He growled beneath a great boom of thunder. Arthur didn't hear him and the prospect of having to say it again only upset him further.  
     "What?"  
     "Kilgharrah is dead. It was he who took your place."  
     Arthur looked stricken. "I'm sorry, Merlin."  
     "It's fine, can we go now?"  
     The king simply nodded and followed after him. He didn't mean to be such an ass to his friend, but he was in a sour mood he couldn't shake. If he chose to analyze it, which he did not, he might have found it was frustration with himself, rather than with his friend. A frustration he'd been able to overlook all these years because he knew better. A feeling that could be accepted even less than sorcery.  
    It was like the infuriating itch of a particularly bad bug bite. Touching it only proved to make it itch worse, and once you began you could scratch it until it was raw and bloody and not care for the pleasure the action brought. Arthur was that itch and he had been touched.  
           The rain started. And it poured.  
           "We won't make it back before we're soaked through." His companion called out over the wind. "Let's take cover. There's that rocky overhang nearby."  
           The last thing he needed was to share  a small space with his king, being damp and cold to boot. Raising his hand, he called forth a barrier of sorts that deflected most of the rain. "No need." He stated, motioning for Arthur to join him.  
           "You said barriers used up your energy, didn't you?"  
           The blond would choose to be observant now, wouldn't he? "Yes."  
           "Then don't be stupid. Come on." The magic faltered as he was jerked into the tree cover and guided brutishly through brush and fresh mud to the overhang his friend had mentioned.  
    Arthur sat down heavily, his hair matted to his face. It wouldn't be long before he was shivering. Merlin accepted his fate, as he always did, and trudged out again to collect a bit of firewood, ignoring protests from the king.  
    When he came back, Arthur had wrapped his arms around himself, eyes faraway. "You'll hurt yourself, thinking that hard." Merlin snorted, setting the wood down and drying it out with a wave of his hand. That seemed to draw back his king's attention.  
    "Can you do that with our clothes?" The blond questioned.  
    He gave an affirming 'mmhm' as he arranged the kindling and lit the flame. After which, he absently threw a golden glare at his counterpart who looked both shocked and concerned as his clothes and hair billowed around him momentarily before settling again against his body, dry. He then did the same to himself and took a seat near Arthur for lack of better options.  
    It was a small space, after all.  
    "How long have you known? About the dragon?" The other man asked softly sometime after the sound of the rain had lulled both of their moods into a sleepy calm.  
    "A few days."  
    "Why didn't you say anything?"  
    Merlin mulled over his words cautiously and the king waited as he did. "Because- it is a hard thing to talk about." He'd called to ask about his strange headaches, but Kilgharrah had never come. "I don't know in what manner he died. The last time I toyed with life and death- my mother suffered. She would have died miserably."  
    He could tell what Arthur was thinking by the look on his face, and even had he been blind he would have known. The king always blamed himself. "It wasn't your fault." He sighed, putting swirls and starbursts in the flames with a lazy wriggle of his fingers. "Either time."  
    If Arthur disagreed, for once, he didn't say.


	10. Pour

  
  
          Arthur watched Merlin play with the fire. It was fascinating and wondrous and terrifying all at once. The things this man could do were amazing. To think that his closest companion could wield such an element like a plaything made him feel pride and also an instinctive distrust that he was deeply ashamed of.  
Somewhere, a tree cracked loudly, pushed over by the wind. Merlin tensed as it crashed through its brethren, the images falling from the flame as his concentration was lost. It only took a moment for Arthur to realize why.  
    The warlock rose as the earth above them shifted and Arthur did the same. Merlin shoved him roughly into the rocky wall behind him as dirt and foliage slide downward around them, the rotted elm tumbling from above their shelter.  
    "Merlin!" Arthur scolded, pressing a hand to his temple where he'd hit the wall, fingers coming away bloody. "Damn it, you idiot. I would have moved on my own!"  
    "Get out from under here." Merlin hissed, debris sweeping over his boots and banking the fire. "The ground holding this rock is falling away. The roots..." The explaination trailed off and he raised his hands, palm up.  
    "Ridiculous!" Because it was. Could he really not go outside for an hour without something life threatening happening?! "You're coming too?"  
    The thinner rock at the edges of their shelter crumbled beneath the weight of the thick trunk now laying across it. "Arthur, get out! I'm all that's holding it up!"  
    He obeyed, reluctantly and then cursed up and down and sideways as he saw just what it was that his friend was dealing with. The entire hillside above the overhang was coming undone. The roots of the ancient tree now overturned and releasing years of ground from its support. If they didn't have bad luck, they'd have none at all.  
    "Come on, Merlin!" He shouted, "Get out of there before the whole hill comes down on top of you!"  
    His friend gave him a sarcastic look and then let the earth crumble in around him. Arthur had to jump back to avoid the rolling ground and was nearly taken out by a boulder the size of his ego before regaining his senses enough to scream. "Merlin!"  
         Stumbling over upended saplings and still writhing rock, he made his way back to where he imagined his friend might be buried. "Merlin!" Surely to God the warlock wouldn't have just let himself get buried alive. To be taken down by a storm? After dragons and sidhes and Morgana, there was no way that this would be his undoing. Reason told him that, but his terror had reduced the capabilities of his mind to panic alone. "You idiot!"  
         Throwing stones and mud away, he tried to dig through the damning mess, but an explosion just ahead of him hindered the his efforts. The sound jumbled his head and caused him to stagger dizzily sideways. His knee twisted funnily and he fell over onto his back, legs still laying upward on the mound of disheveled forest, freezing raindrops stinging his eyes.  
         "What are you doing?" Merlin snorted, appearing above him, not a scratch or even a smear of dirt on his stupid, handsome cheekbones.  
         Rage. Relief. Mortification. He swallowed it all and reached out to knock Merlin's ankles out from under him. "You ass!" The other man dodged with an ease that only further infuriated him. "What the hell were you thinking!"  
         "Are you alright?" Merlin huffed, offering him a hand. "Your head is bleeding."  
         "You could have been killed!"  
         "If I didn't have magic, maybe."  
    He couldn't contain himself. Merlin didn't escape his next attack, which forced the warlock to the mud. Arthur got on top of him and shook him by the shoulders, only just staying the urge to break that pretty nose. "I thought you were dead!" He boomed, "You stupid, ignorant, useless moron! Damn it!"  
    And then his fury disappeared.  
    His friend's cool fingers reached up to touch his injured head. That telltale spill of gilded color covered his irises and a warmth bloomed over the dull throbbing of the gash. He didn't need to see to know that it'd been healed. "Sorry." Merlin murmured. "I didn't mean for you to get hurt."  
    Him? Was this creature so blind, so deaf, that even when he was furious over the near loss of him that he'd first seek to mend his physical injuries? And such a trifling one?     "Please," and it came out sounding every bit the plea that it was. "Please, Merlin, stop treating yourself like you don't matter, like you're somehow worth less. Even before, I thought I'd made it clear, your life is equal to mine."  
    "You're the king."  
    "But I am first a man!" He snarled, "A man who has been betrayed by everyone one I have ever cared about! You are the only person that I can trust! Do not seek to take that away from me! I could not bear it!"  
    Merlin's face contorted as their sorrow seemed to mix. Whether it was the weight of old injuries or the pang of fresh ones, he could not possibly know, but whatever hurt it was proved too much for the warlock. "I'm so sorry, Arthur." The man whispered, voice breaking and tears spilling over his face to join in the making of the mud.  
    This time, he made no illusion to womanhood, nor did he laugh or joke. Instead, he moved off of him, and pulled him to his feet and then into an embrace. He allowed himself to tangle his fingers into the night-dark hair, permitted himself to bury his face into the neckerchief at Merlin's throat. He didn't care how it looked. He couldn't.  
    The only thing in his heart at that moment was the inescapable need to mend whatever it was that had so broken Merlin's.


	11. Bye Felicia

  
  
         There was a small and very angry animal in his head. It clawed at his vision, blurring his chambers and reacting violently to every noise from the corridor outside.  
         Shrieking that only he could hear rattled his nerves and had him vomiting bile into a bucket brought up by Gaius. He couldn't make sense of anything through the pain, couldn't reach out and make contact with whatever distressed being was raging at him. All he could do was sit there on the floor beside his bed, bucket between his thighs and magic on his lips.  
          He tried everything short of a blood sacrifice to stop the torment, but to no avail. His mother had come and gone again, careful only to speak in hushed tones and only when necessary. She'd bring water for him that he wouldn't drink or hover helplessly nearby until it became to much for her to watch.  
          So, when the door creaked open, the sound nearly splitting his skull, he assumed it was her. But of course, it was Arthur. Who else stomped about like a drunken horse even when trying to be silent. "Go 'way." He groaned, not wanting to be seen in such a state of disrepair.  
          "Is it a curse?"  
          He winced, "the only curse here is your god awful voice."  
          Arthur pulled closed the curtains and suddenly he was not such an unwanted presence. The absence of irksome sunlight soothed him, if only by small degrees. He felt, more than saw, the king squat down beside him, heard the cork pop from a bottle like a battering ram on the gate of his skull. A sweet, musty smell filled his nostrils and he was sick again. His mental attacker wailed and cried, and there was nothing he could do to dull the noise.  
          When the assault lessened, leaving only crooning and fluttering and soft, sad whimpers pounding at his frontal lobe, he noticed the strong hand rubbing small circles over his back. He flinched beneath the touch, but not because it was unwanted. "Where's Gwen?" He croaked, knowing Arthur would take the hint.  
          "We just got back from a ride." Was the hushed reply, though it wasn't really an answer.  
           Arthur smeared something oily across his forehead with a rough thumb. The throbbing ease a little but the smell of it made him gag again. Strange, because he usually thought the smell of lavender was soothing. More was applied to his temples and the back of his neck and as much as he wanted to shake off the warm hands, he didn't.  
           After Arthur had done all he could do within the realm of excusability, he sat down next to him, sighing deeply. "Gaius is starting to think it's some sort of brain sickness."  
           "It's not." He assured him weakly.  
           "What is it then?"  
           "It's Aithusa."  
           Arthur shifted, and was quite for a long moment before speaking. "The white dragon?"  
          "Mhm."  
          "Is it revenge?"  
          That was doubtful. He'd already tried ordering her to stop, but she hadn't. That told him that it was not something the young dragon was doing consciously. "More likely, she's calling for help."  
          "By near crippling you?" The king scoffed a little too loudly.  
          "She can't use words. Her mind is broken." He replied, his voice sounding thread-thin and mangled. "Calling to me must be instinctive."  
          "So, if we go and rescue it, it'll stop doing this to you?"  
          We. The assumption both warmed and chilled him. "You can't go anywhere. You have a kingdom to look after."  
          "Well, you can't go alone. Look at you."  
          "I'm not like this all the time."  
          "But often enough to get a spear to the chest should you lay down in the wrong place."  
          He wanted to argue. Really, he did. Passionately so. For his sake. For Gwen's sake. For the whole of Camelot. However, he was too sick to bother and he felt Arthur knew it.

  
***  
        
     "You can't just run off on wild adventures anymore Arthur!" Gwen cried, "You can't leave now! The weather is getting colder, we need you here for harvest. And Merlin doesn't even know where this dragon is! Who knows how long you'll be gone or if you'll even come back!"  
    He knew she had a right to worry. "If we don't find it within the month, I'll come back."  
    "A month, Arthur?"  
    "I can't just let Merlin suffer."  
    She let her bottom lip slip through her teeth as she always did when she was upset. "I don't want you to go."  
    "If it were me in his place, he would have been gone already."  
    "He is not the king!"  
    "Nor are you!" The words struck her, as, in his temper, he hah meant them to. Her brows furrowed and he took a slow breath inward before speaking again. "I owe him. You owe him. The whole of Camelot owes him. I would not be the man you fell in love with if I sat idly on my throne while a friend suffered."  
    "Just a friend?" Her tone was dark and accusatory.  
    "He is more than that. We- have a bond. You know this."  
    "The sort of bond that ruins nations, Arthur? The sort that causes scandal and discord?"  
    "You are out of line."  
    She took a step forward as if she may hit him. "Am I?"  
    "Do you realize what you are insinuating?"  
    "Yes! And it hurts to think that after everything I have already lost that I might do the same now with you! To a man I have trusted from the start! I've seen the way you look at him! The way you watch his every move! How can I not wonder when even the scullery maids can see?"  
    "Of course I watch him!" Because he was beautiful and elegant even in his awkward manner, because the absolute acceptance and love in those eyes of his was touching and reassuring in a way Gwen's had never been. "Of course I watch him, Gwen." His traitorous hands reached out to wipe a tear from her cheek but she pulled away. "He's not well, and I fear losing him. If he falls I want to be there, if he hurts I want to mend it. He is my truest friend, and he has never betrayed me. Do not do this."  
          Her chin quivered slightly before she raised it and hardened her expression through will alone. "I love you, Arthur Pendragon. You are a good man, with an honorable heart and I trust that you will do right by me."  
          The words gutted him. "I love you too." He whispered, because he did, didn't he? Hadn't he always? "Take care of our people in my absence."


	12. Magic Kink

  
     
    They'd been three days on the road. Merlin hadn't complained once, not when his head was splitting, or when he was gagging on bile, or near falling off his horse for the pain. He hadn't griped about sleeping in the dirt or on the hard surface of a cave's floor. He hadn't even uttered protest when, last night, they'd had to doze back to back due to lack of shelter.  
    Arthur found he missed his whining. "You alright back there?" He called, looking over his shoulder at the warlock.  
    "Fine." Merlin answered dryly.  
    "There's an inn not far. Do you want to stay there?"  
    "It's up to you, Arthur. It's your coin."  
        "If it'll stop your moping I'd buy the place." He snorted playfully, "Really, Merlin, I prefer your whining."  
         "Sorry. Just thinking."  
    "About what?"  
        "I wouldn't want to overload your brain."  
        "Merlin."  
    "Fine, I was thinking about how much faster this would be in a helicopter."  
    "A what?"  
    "It's a hunk of metal that flys. You can sit in it."  
         "Is it magic?"  
         "Science."  
          He slowed his horse so he could come to ride beside the warlock. "And this is something that happened in your dream?"  
          "In the future, yes."  
          "Does Camelot possess many helichoppers?"  
          His friend laughed a bit and then sighed sadly. "No. Camelot doesn't exist. It disappears, becomes a legend. Same as you and Excalibur."  
          Merlin said this with such sadness that it halted any outrage he may have felt at the idea. "Well, never mind, it was just a dream, after all."  
          "Right."  
    "It was, Merlin." He patted his friend on the back, fingers lingering a moment too long. "You're home now."  
    "Yeah." The man's voice was tight as he answered and Arthur tried to think of something else to talk about.  
            "Do you know where we're going yet?"  
            "The headaches are getting more painful. Her screaming is louder, I think that can only mean we're getting closer. I'll try some seeking spells when we get to the inn."  
           "Why haven't you tried that already?" They'd been on the road for days! Aimlessly!  
           "All the easiest spells require something of the person or creature you're looking for. I don't have anything of Aithusa's. There's a harder spell, but it takes a lot of time and energy. I'll need a safe place to do it."  
    He didn't like the sound of that, but for once he didn't say anything. It wasn't his business what the warlock did and worrying about his wellbeing only deepened the disturbing feelings he'd begun to have. There was a lot of him that wanted to take Merlin in his arms and not let go. And that was dangerous.  
          An hour later they arrived at the inn and while he took their bags up to the room Merlin set out to gather a few things from the village that he'd need for his magic. It had been hard for Arthur to let him go alone.  
           "We don't need someone recognizing you." The man had argued reasonably. And so he'd trudged inside and up the stairs and was now laying on the bed dozing.  
            Rolling lethargically onto his stomach he began to wonder what it would be like- to have Merlin here with him, close enough to smell the woody, wintry smell his friend's skin expelled. If he were to kiss those plush lips, would his breathe taste likewise? What would that silky hair feel like fisted in his fingers, would that pale skin feel like porcelain in his palms? Before he realized just how far gone he'd let his mind become, he was hard against the mattress and rubbing at himself through his trousers.  
           This was wrong. Somewhere in his heart he knew that, but it felt good, really good. No amount of honor in the world could make him less of a man, and the man in him was wanton. He bit his lip and moaned into the pillow, imagining what Merlin might look like doing the same.  
           And oh did that imagine of fire in his veins.  
           Footfalls on the staircase sounded, soft and light and undeniably Merlin's. He stilled, struggling to slow his breathing. Shame rolled in as he feigned sleep.  
           "Dollophead?" The warlock called softly, lightening his movements even further and making himself soundless. "Arthur?"  
           His heart pounded faster despite his slow breathing as gentle fingers breezed through his hair and a carafe was set quietly down on the night table. His friend cast a blanket over him and then began to move about the room like a phantom, ghosting through whatever rituals needed performing before laying down on his own bed with a soft exhale.  
            Apparently, they were both due for a nap.   
  
     He hadn't thought about her. He'd been in so much pain, sure he was going to die, and he hadn't thought once about his wife. But he's thought about Merlin. His whole mind and heart had been preoccupied with regrets, with feelings of failure and fear and of emotions he'd ignored up until that point because they were twisted and unwelcome. He remembered the way his life felt as it left him, how it hurt as his heart tried to beat around a shard of cursed metal. But none of that had been as bad as watching Merlin sob helplessly over him.  
In that moment all he'd wanted was to live, not for Camelot, not for Gwen, not for himself, but for Merlin. So now, as he stood, back to the only window, watching the warlock draw symbols on the wood floor, he contemplated what he might say the next time he was dying. If he had it to do again, would he let slip his secret?  
    "Can you hand me the bowl?"  
          His friend's voice woke him from his ponderings and he was grateful. "About done then?" He queried, handing Merlin the large bowl he'd asked for.  
          "With the set up. Carafe, as well, please."  
          Arthur fetched the water from the stand and set it by the warlock's feet, careful not to muss the chalk symbols with his feet. "How does it work?"  
          "I don't want to bore you with the details."  
          His eyes rolled. "Come on, Merlin, if I'm gonna have to stand around here guarding you, you should at least be kind enough to tell me what you're doing.  How will I know if something goes wrong?"  
          "If I die, I'd say it went wrong."  
          This did not amuse him. "And is that a likely outcome?"  
          Merlin poured the water in the bowl and looked down at it ponderously. "No. I know what I'm doing. But depending on how long it takes, I may come away fairly worn out. You won't mind helping me to bed?"  
           That should not have made his loins heat. "Is there a spell to use to find out if someone is under enchantment?"  
            The other man looked at him over his shoulder, blue eyes limpid and unfairly dazzling. "That again?"  
           "Again?"  
           "After the feast, you got drunk and asked if I would ever enchant you. Are you feeling odd?"  
            Yes. Absolutely. Especially now when he was beneath such a scrupulous gaze. "I just feel a bit- bothered."  
           "What sort of bothered?"  
           Like he might do something totally uncouth at any moment and would have little conscious say in the matter. Like he wanted to take Merlin right there on the floor as a beast might. However that worked. He couldn't say he knew but a wicked bit of him really wanted to learn. "I feel- wrong." There was no way he could confess it.  
           "That doesn't help me, Arthur. Symptoms?"  
           "Hot flashes."  
           Merlin mimicked Gaius' eyebrow. "Hot flashes?"  
           "And stomach- twistiness?"  
           "Sure it wasn't something you ate?"  
           "Not that sort of twisted." He had to look away. "Can you just see if I'm enchanted?"  
           "I learned it after you died, some years afterward. So, I don't know if it was a real thing, but it can't hurt to try." Rising, Merlin brushed chalk off his pants and approached him, the movement much more alluring than it had any right to be.  
          Arthur's eyes fluttered closed against his will as Merlin laid a hand across his forehead, the warmth of the touch seeping into his skull and downward. It was like that time in the forest. Merlin's magic did not just touch him, it consumed him. He felt it across his flesh, a film of whimsy and want. It chased down his spine, alighting his bones and making his knees weak.  
          "Arthur?" Merlin withdrew his hand but the damage was done.  
           Abruptly, his pants felt two sizes too tight and it was as though he hadn't been touched in ages. At the same time he felt powerless, as if all control had been stolen away from him and he liked it. "What did you do to me?" He half-moaned, feeling the flush across his face spreading. "I feel-" amazing, desperate, needy, "weird."  
          "Maybe you should lay down. You feel a little hot." His advisor whispered, a ruddy color blooming across his nose. "I don't think you're bespelled, but- just- go lay down for a bit."  
          "I need you to do something Merlin." The plea fell out of him against his will but God he couldn't think around the swelling in his head. "Whatever you did to me, fix it."  
           "Arthur." The warlock's tone became slow and stern. "I think you might have a magic kink."  
           "A what?"  
           "I'm going to leave for an hour or so. Just lay down a while and sort yourself out. Okay?"  
           But his veins were on fire. He'd never felt so uncomfortable. "Fix it." Even the touch of his clothes had begun to make him itch with pleasure. "Merlin, please. I can't- stay like this."  
            "You won't. It'll stop eventually. You're not the only person in the world who this happens to. I just never thought- I mean you've been around magic so often before now... Unless it's just me?"  
            "I'm not under a spell?"  
            "No. Some people just react differently to my magic."  
            There'd been others Merlin had made like this? "What did you do for them?"  
            "Not something I can do for you." The warlock snapped, "Just stay here and cool off. I'll go down and have a drink or two in the meantime."  
            "Merlin." His voice was a whine but he couldn't know shame.  
            "I'm sorry. Don't mess up my chalk lines." The other man sighed, slipping out of the room and leaving him burning.


	13. Selfish

  
        
     Drinking wasn't the best idea. Not when he had a powerful spell to work and a best friend who was apparently aroused by the use of his magic. Merlin took another swig of his mead. Arthur had never acted that way before. Had he? He'd used magic on and around the king plenty of times before and never with such an outcome.  
    What if it had something to do with how he'd revived him? If he had. If this wasn't just a dream. Maybe it wasn't magic cast around him, but magic cast on him directly? Maybe it was the contact that did it?  
    Then again, he'd tried healing magic on him and it hadn't happened then. Though, that could have been because the man was dying at the time. Who had time for that with eminent death looming?  
    He didn't know why it was happening.  
    What he did know was that it'd taken every bit of his willpower to leave Arthur wanting. Because the thought of having the king at his mercy in such a way boiled his insides. If he was selfish, he'd have taken advantage of his friend, and whether Arthur enjoyed it or not, it would have been wrong and satisfying.  
            Damn it. And how exactly was their relationship going to survive this? It probably wouldn't.  
            Liquid courage coursing through him, he paid the innkeeper for the drinks and accepted a tray of dinner for Arthur before heading back upstairs to face his destiny. It'd been two hours since he's fled the room, surely Arthur had taken care of himself and gotten over it by now. He knocked anyway.  
           "Come in." The king called, voice thick.  
           The creak of the door was loud in the silence that followed. Merlin entered, finding Arthur sitting in the middle of the bed, blue eyes hard and mouth set in a frown.  
           "I brought dinner." He stated needlessly, "If you're hungry."  
           "I'm not."  
           He'd seen that coming. "Do- you want me to see about getting my own room?"  
    "You said that there was nothing you could do for me." The king muttered, averting his gaze to the chalk lines on the floor. "Have you helped others?"  
Was- was Arthur Pendragon asking about his sexual escapades? "You mean, did I bed them?"  
    "Did you?"  
    Yeah. Most of them. And maybe it was the mead, but he answered bluntly: "Yes." Though he hadn't really bedded a great number of them. Forested, carted, and cave-floored was more accurate.  
    "Wow." Arthur snorted. "That's remarkably honest. I'd expected you to lie."  
    The daggers in the words did not miss their target and Merlin's temper stirred. "Don't be a prat." It was a warning and he made sure his tone said as much.  
    "Well, forgive me." The blond growled, "You did just set me on fire and leave me."  
    "Oh?" Merlin felt the situation getting out of hand but he went with it. "Would you have preferred I bend you over the table and had my way with you?"  
    That shut Arthur up. For a minute. "Who's to say it wouldn't have gone the other way round?"  
           "Because it wouldn't have."  
           "And why the hell not? I'm the King."  
           Merlin laughed darkly and set the tray aside. "Have you ever been with a man, Arthur?"  
           "No."  
           "A crown's not what puts you on top."  
           "And what does exactly?"  
           "In most cases?" Oh, something dark was worming across his heart and he wasn't of a mind to stop it. "Power." Arthur shuddered, and the sight of it egged Merlin on. "You might be a bit broader than me, and you might be a warrior and a king, but I would have you gasping my name into the sheets so desperately that you'd forget it."  
           "And would you like that?"  
           "Immensely."  
            The conflict that twisted across Arthur's features then woke Merlin from is drunken taunting. "Have you always felt that way?" The king breathed, "I mean- about sex?"  
           "Are you asking if I've always liked men? Did Kilgharrah not tell you that bit?" Had the dragon even known?  
           "We didn't cover your sex-life, no."  
           Good. "Recently, I've simply done whoever wanted me. It's acceptable in that world."  
           "You mean your dream?"  
           As things were turning out, Merlin had begun to doubt this reality again. In what world would he and Arthur ever find themselves here, talking about this? "Yes. I lived a long time, I did many, many things." He shrugged, "but none of them mattered."  
          "And yet you walked out on me?"  
          What- wait... Was Arthur- jealous? "You're married." He stated dumbly.  
          "And if I wasn't?"  
           "I'd still have left."  
           "Not your type then, am I?"  
           "You sound as if you want to be."  
           Arthur seemed deflated all at once, as if the sigh he let loose had contained every bit of his fight. His fingers plucked absently at the fraying ends of the blankets he sat on. "If I haven't been enchanted, then I think I must love you, Merlin. In the way that would make me want to have you, and only you, do such deplorable things to me."  
           Yeah. Okay. This was definitely not real life. "Arthur, you have Gwen-"  
           The mention of her name had him grimacing. "I know."  
            "Then you also know why I left earlier." He said, more stern than he felt. "You are an honorable man and I'm not selfish."  
             "And what if I wanted to stop being so honorable?" Arthur's voice held a bitterness that hurt him to hear, but as always, he did what was right and not what he desired.  
             "Then I would call you a clotpole, and give you some vague lecture that would have you changing your mind and thinking that you were the one who'd changed it."


	14. Resist

 

    Arthur wanted to argue, but he didn't. He didn't do anything. He just sat there feeling angry and hurt and confused and still unsatisfied as Merlin skirted the bed and knelt in the circle he'd drawn.  
    "You may want to leave." The warlock advised, "I'm not sure how this spell will affect you."  
    "It's dangerous. I'll stay."  
    His companion shot him a doubtful look that only fueled the rush of need in his nerves. "It's not as if you can do anything for me if things go badly, Arthur. I'm going to leave my body. I might not come back."  
    Okay. That was a tidbit of information his friend had left out in their earlier discussions. "Are you bloody stupid?"  
    "I've done it before."  
    "Well-" he paused as Merlin shifted from his haunches onto his ass and placed his head in one pale palm. "Alright, Merlin?"  
    "I've done it before, after your death." The man quavered, "Just like the enchantment detecting spell."  
    "And?"  
    "All the things I learned after your death work here."  
    Arthur's belly tangled. He could see where this trail of thought was leading his counterpart. "Merlin, I know that this is real. It has to be. I mean- I feel alive. Don't you?"  
    "There's a significant difference between being alive and feeling it." The dark haired man breathed, "I drank too much. I'll wait until morning to do this."  
    "Fine by me."  
    The silence crawled in then, like a beast along the floor in the dark. Arthur's heart beat a little faster as he watched Merlin's lithe frame rise and trudge toward his own bed. "Merlin." He called out before he had time to think about it.  
    "What?" The warlock sighed softly, falling into his mattress meaningfully.  
    He didn't let fear stop him. Honor fell away and he moved from his bed. Merlin rolled over onto his back, and did not try to fend him off as he straddled his waist. "I'm still burning." He simpered, "It's making me feel sick."  
    "You didn't take care of it yourself while I was gone?" His friend inquired gently, expression unreadable.  
    "I did. Twice." The confession may have embarrassed him had his shame not been obliterated by the aching want in his bones. "It didn't help."  
    "I'll put you to sleep then." Merlin murmured, raising a warm hand to clasp the side of his head. Arthur turned into the touch, his mouth falling over the warlock's thumb, his tongue swirling over the pad, relishing in the chalky residue there.  
    "Prat." Merlin hissed throatily, yanking his head downwards with a roughness he hadn't thought him capable of. Those blue eyes bore into him, a warning, a dare, a promise. Arthur was afraid and enthralled all at once and he let out a helpless moan as those irises flashed gold.  
    "Why don't you want me?" He murmured sleepily as the spell began to take effect.  
    "I _do_ want you Arthur." Merlin answered sadly, pressing a kiss on his forehead as he sagged forward. "But you're not mine."  
    "Please..."  
    "Go to sleep."

***

 

 


	15. The Calm

     Arthur woke late, sunshine coming down bright and brutal through the window of the room. For a blissful minute he laid there certain that all the odd transpiring of the day before had all been a dream. Yawning, he rubbed at the discomfort in his trousers and then sat up in search of breakfast. Instead he found a very pale Merlin laying in the midst of a mussed chalk circle.   
     "Merlin?" His voice was thick from sleep and he fumbled off the bed, leaving any and all kingly grace he may have possessed previously on the mattress. "Merlin?"   
His heart, not ready for a fright so soon after his waking, beat painfully fast as he pulled the warlock into his arms. He patted the man's pale face a few times, provoking a grumble and a weary, half-lidded scowl. "Nhng. Prat. What're you doing?"  
     "What am _I_ doing?"Abandoning gentleness in favor of annoyance, Arthur rolled his friend out of his lap and back to the floor. "What the hell are _you_ doing?"  
     His companion sat up slowly, bending a knee in order to have a place to rest his head. "You don't have to shout, Arthur." Merlin growled, "I got up early to do that spell. Didn't want you having any- issues."  
     He didn't spare time to lament the fact that last night had actually happened. Instead, he scowled and cuffed Merlin's ear. "Don't ever cast magic on me again." He snapped, "I'm still your king."  
     "Without your permission, you mean." The man corrected, his tired gaze suddenly ridiculously alluring. It didn't help that his hair fell around his face, complimenting those sharp cheekbones. And damn it if those plush lips were parted prettily too. His face flushed at the thought. Merlin had no right being so sensual and he has no right thinking so.  
He turned averted his eyes. "Was your spell successful?"   
     "She's a few days ride from here. Some slavers are using her as a guard dog." The answer was given wearily, "I didn't see much else. She sensed me and threw a huge tantrum. I don't think helping her is going to be easy."   
     "Is anything when dragons are concerned?" He snorted, lifting Merlin up by the shoulder and helping him to the bed. "You rest, I'll see about some food." As he went to pull away the warlock caught his wrist. His whole arm went hot and he swallowed hard. "Merlin?"  
     "Will you see about baths?"   
     "What?"  
     His friend frowned. "Baths. You know, those things you're so bloody fond of? Having people carry your water up five flights of stairs and endless corridors. The things you make your servants heat to a ridiculous and nearly unattainable warmth?"   
     Shaken, he couldn't summon any snark in return. "That'll cost extra." He muttered.  
     "Take it out of my pay." Merlin snorted, releasing him with a cold look of knowing before falling sideways into the blankets.   
Arthur stood there for a moment, a mixture of wonderment and irritation churning in his empty stomach. "Anything else?" He finally uttered, needing an excuse for having lingered.  
     Merlin made an indistinguishable noise and rolled onto his stomach, which Arthur took as 'no, go away'.

    With a soft sigh, he did just that.   
  



	16. Struggle

     Arthur was brooding, eyes on the fire and chin setting on folded hands. Merlin took his time laying a barrier around their camp before returning to his too-silent counterpart. As he sat down opposite the king, Arthur turned his face to avoid noncommittal to even eye contact. It had been thus for three days.   
     Before, Merlin may have forced his friend to smile with incessant snark or humor. But this time was different, because this time it was him the man was troubled by. Arthur had spoken more to him when he'd come clean about his magic than he was doing now. It was frustrating, and what was more so was the way the firelight illuminated the blond's hair causing it to cast hues reminiscent of dragon's breath. He'd seen more beautiful creatures, lain with porcelain skinned women and pressed against men so solid they rivaled golems in strength, but none of them had ever been Arthur.   
     It wasn't his jawline or the clear sky of his irises that made the person before him desirable. It was his very soul that called to him, and it had summoned his being for countless years without his knowing and thousands more thereafter. It was a cruel and merciless beckoning that both filled and hollowed him. It was a thing to be suffered and never sated. And yet- as he watched the shadows prance across those already gloom-laden features, he could do nothing but want.   
     He wanted that heart, that soul, that body. Wanted to care for it, nurture it, fuck it senseless. He wanted to hold, to be held, to keep and have and cherish. But that was not his place, not here, not now. In that hell, that dream world, he'd hoped every day that Arthur would come back and in that place, in that time, there could have been more between them. So much more than this painful quiet, this gut-devouring need.   
     "What are you thinking?" Arthur asked suddenly, pinning him with a look as sharp as the knife on his belt.   
     "About how I want you." He answered truthfully. What need was there for any more secrets?   
     The king's face twisted angrily and then untangled into a perturbed scowl. "Why is this happening?"  
     "I was wondering how you'd take it when you outgrew that obliviousness of yours." He quipped in response. "You're adapting better than expected."  
     "It's not a joke." A hand raised to massage the royal's sternum. "It's not funny, this feeling. If it's not a curse, it should be."  
He could agree with that. "You should go back to Gwen."  
     "This isn't about her." Arthur hissed, standing up. "I- don't want to think about her."  
     "Therein lies the problem." Merlin mumbled, throwing a twig in the fire. "Nothing will go back to how it was before, will it? You're not going to let this go?"   
     "I think I've been fool enough already."   
     "Arthur, just stop." He growled, "I just want to-"  
     "No." There was no kindness in Arthur's touch as he yanked him up from the ground. "You can't tell me that you'd enjoy making me gasp your name and then ask me to forget it."   
     "It can't happen."  
     "It could!" Despite the brutal grip and the violence dancing in the man's aura, there was a break in his voice as he shouted. "If you'd let it! And why do I want you to? It's not even about the sex, Merlin. Up until last week I never even thought about it. Now I can't stop. What is wrong with me?"  
     "Nothing is wrong with you, Arthur." He sighed, "We practically share a soul. With a bond that deep there are bound to be blurred lines. It's just that, you never had to worry about crossing them before because you didn't know they were there."  
     Arthur's perfect mouth quivered. "I feel filthy."   
     What could he say to that? He himself had felt the same way for years after these desires had awoken in him. Uncertainty turned his stomach. There was a spell he could use to erase Arthur's memories. His heart took on the weight of a boulder. No. He didn't want to live another lifetime forgotten and alone.   
Maybe he was selfish.   
     "What do you want me to do, Arthur?" He whispered, glancing down at the white knuckled fingers still wrapped around his arm.   
     The king swallowed hard and shook his head, removing his hand and stepping back. "Nothing. I'm sorry."   
     A pulse of energy thumped through him before he could reply and he didn't even have to speak. Arthur read his expression with an ease brought on by years of words unspoken and drew his sword. "How many?" He inquired softly as they turned back to back.   
Without thinking Merlin allowed his magic to spread out over the earth, locating the unlucky idiots who'd stepped within his barriers. "A dozen."   
     Arthur made a muffled noise and Merlin cursed, realizing what he'd done. The king's spine jellied and he leaned a it more heavily against him. "Sorry." The blond grunted, "Can you do something to get rid of the-"  
Saxons. Because of course they'd be Saxons. They were dressed like peasants and haggard, but Merlin knew by their feel. The angry remnants rushed them before Arthur could finish his request and suddenly everything was in motion. Merlin had his sword in hand, swinging and dodging and blocking with skills he'd picked up long after Arthur had died, another check in the long list of things that made this world less and less true.   
     He was going to need to use magic. That was clear. It had been from the start, but he'd wanted to avoid it anyway. There just wasn't enough restraint in him to turn away another hot and bothered king. Blood ran warm over his hands as he pulled his sword from the chest of a particular mammoth man. He spun gracefully around to block a strike from another as the body hit the ground behind him.   
     Doing a quick survey to locate that golden head of hair, he went on with the fight, moving closer to his friend as he did so. He couldn't remember just how they'd gotten separated in the first place, but that was often how battle went. Blind and angry.  
     He was two feet from Arthur when he was knocked on his back by a man he hadn't noticed, having been too focused on getting to his monarch. He rolled, the breath of the battle ax whispering in his ear. It was easy enough after that to kick the man's knees out from beneath him and remove his head. An act he'd have found over-brutal a thousand years prior.   
     Rising, he searched again, but this time there was no flash of gold, no radiant blue hot and alive from the war bred into his veins, no king of Camelot. "Arthur!" He called above the ruckus. "Arthur?"  
     Only rage answered.  
     Dream or not, no one was going to take Arthur from him again. Never again. The ground came alive at his summoning, rolling with the same unease of his stomach and he relished the screaming throughout the forest as those fools witnessed his wrath and succumbed to it. He left them in bloody heaps of limbs and tattered cloth, rent by animated branches and stones sudden sharp. The whole of the wood bent to his will and his enemies were taken in and consumed in its leafy bowels where no one would ever find their bones.   
     His soul sensed Arthur first, and he walked rather than ran, knowing what injuries there were, were minimal. It was too late to save the king from his magic, so he only called it back when he could see his target with his own eyes.   
     Arthur was slumped against a tree, sword cast aside and hand in his trousers, unbothered by the debris of their fight laying all around them. Merlin wanted to turn away, but he couldn't. To hell with the reason why. He simply could not. "Let's get back to the fire." He said only to alert Arthur of his presence. "I'll see to your cuts and then we can look for the horses."   
     The king moaned, eyes half-lidded and hungry as they looked at him. "Merlin."   
A shiver ran down his spine. "You know it's just the magic."   
     "Please."  
     "Just-" his own body was already responding to the other man's need, "Just- I can't leave you here alone so come back with me to camp. You can take care of things there."  
     It seemed as though Arthur wanted to obey, but two staggered steps forward were as far as he got before he had to stop and rub at his caged erection again, panting and pitiful. "My whole body is on fire, Merlin, please. I can't-" the king choked on a moan and Merlin felt the blood rush from his face and downward.   
     "You have a wife."   
     "Who has never once made me feel like this." Arthur hissed, "I command you, as your king, Merlin."   
     "I'll be your servant in all ways but that one."   
     "Why?" It was almost a sob, "This is your fault! Fix it, damn you!"   
     "Arthur," he was running out of arguments quickly, those plush parted lips and unabashed hands chasing off his excuses faster than he could catch them. "You don't really want this."  
     "I do. Just help me."   
     Merlin's cock throbbed as Arthur bit his bottom lip, still pleasuring himself through the fabric of his trousers. "You do understand what it means for two men to have sex, don't you?"  
     "Enough." The king barked, "Do it. Do whatever, however. I don't care."   
     "Arthur," One last try. "I'm going to shove my prick into your arse. It'll hurt."   
     "Yes." The blond huffed, utterly unfazed. "Now."

  
     Okay then.   
  


 


	17. Fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I did the thing! I told you I was still alive!

     Arthur _needed_ to be touched. God, he wanted the ache to stop, a burning in his bones that both pleasured and tortured him.

 _“_ I’m going to put my prick in your arse.” the warlock warned, tone taking on that gruff edge Arthur had only recently begun to realize he lusted for. “It’ll hurt.”

     “Yes.” Because anything was better than this- this all encompassing _want._ “Now.”

     Merlin was there then, grabbing his wrist and forcing him to stop touching himself. “Merlin.” he moaned the name, pleaded in a way he never had before.

     “If I’m going to do this, _I’m_ going to do it.” his friend- his lover hissed, shoving him backward, pushing him down into the leaf litter.

     “God, yes, please.” He could do nothing more than lift his hips in entreaty as Merlin straddled his waist and pinned his wrists with a strength he’d so often underestimated. “Fuck me.”

     “You’ll hate me after.” the man growled, pulling at his tunic until it was up above his head and efficiently securing his arms at the elbows.

     Hate him? No. Never. He’d tried already, hadn’t he? Tried to be annoyed with him, tried to be angry at him, but no matter how he was feeling, his love for Merlin was as untouchable as the needy place inside of him seemed right now. “I won’t.” he panted, “I won’t, I swear. I could never. I-”

     A hungry, furious mouth pressed against his, all teeth and tongue and desperation. He fought back, a battle between them that neither had to lose. He whimpered into the wet cavern, asphyxiating and exhilarated and oh so undone. This was magic, raw and real and terrible. This was Merlin at his most real, rough but sure, moving with certainty that made all of Arthur’s truths seem watered and worthless.

     His partner pulled back, eyes flashing gold as abruptly wet fingers stroked first his cock and then trailed downward to tug at his balls before circling his asshole. Arthur bit back his cry of surprise as a well oiled fingertip breached the tight ring of muscle and instinctively squirmed away even as his painfully hard cock pulsed at the contact. It- it wasn’t natural, no matter how good it felt and a moment of panicked clarity washed over him.

     Merlin’s free hand came down hard on his hip, forcing him still again, a warm, soothing tingling sensation radiating from the palm and moving outwards across his skin. “Breathe.” the warlock ordered huskily, probing deeper.

     There was no sign of coddling, no promise of stopping in the man’s tone and somehow that only made Arthur more compliant. He relaxed, drawing air into his lungs as he’d been told to do, as if that were the only reason for it. Merlin pushed his finger deeper, stretching. It burned though not hotter than the arousal still melting his senses and Arthur found himself wantonly pushing downward to deepen the intrusion.

     “Arthur.” it was warning and entreaty both and more than anything he wanted to heed and obey.

     Another finger joined its counterpart and he moaned as the discomfort mingled with the warm, calming flow of power from Merlin’s other hand. Power and pleasure and danger. He was prey, knew it, felt it, wanted it. If there was any creature he’d let himself succumb to, it would be this one.

     Three fingers now, moving with purpose, fucking him with a practice he didn’t have the mindfulness to appreciate. He squirmed and bucked his hips, moaning and begging helplessly, like a slave or a man before the hangman’s noose. He didn’t care. Let the whole world watch so long as Merlin didn’t stop.

     And then he did and Arthur growled his protests only to look up and see Merlin poised on his knees above him, pupils blown, lips parted and wet hand languorously stroking his own thick cock. When the man had lost his clothes, Arthur didn’t know and didn’t question. “Your beautiful,” he blurted instead, “And- and huge… Merlin-”

     Those plush lips lifted at one corner, “You’re going to take every inch of this,” Arthur watched the other man’s pale hand as it pumped up and back, “and you’re going to want more.”

     He licked his lips, mouth gone dry. “Yeah. Do I- do I turn over or-”

     “No.” Merlin hooked him by the knees with the crook of his arms and pulled him forward, the head of his dick kissing Arthur’s entrance. “I want to see your face when you cum for me.”

     “Merlin...” This had to be a dream.

     “Yes, say it, I want to hear you crying my name when you can’t even remember your own.” there was a raw desperation available in those words, bleeding into open sky eyes, begging for something and nothing. “I want to be everything, just once.”

     Arthur couldn’t grant the man anything at that moment but promise of release and so he rocked forward, taking Merlin deeper, consenting with both body and soul. “Get on with it,” he croaked, sick with want.

     He arched his back and dug nails into the dirt as the warlock pushed inside of him, filling him up in an impossible capacity. He could feel the man’s dick in his fucking spine, in his gut, in his veins. Dizziness blurred his vision and he squeezed his eyes shut as the world began to spin. Merlin slapped his thigh hard, the stinging bringing back the previous reminder that he needed oxygen. He gasped for it and his lover grunted, sinking into him to the balls.

     The warlock exhaled sharply through his nose, gyrating his hips slowly, waiting to be accommodated and Arthur couldn’t help his simpering or the quaking of his limbs. It hurt, but what was pain to him who had been dead already, who had been poisoned and struck and stabbed? Adrenaline rushed him, overwhelming already hyper-sensitized nerves. “Can I touch myself now?” he gusted, “Please, god, please.”

     Merlin chuckled, a dark, devious sound that Arthur would not soon forget. “Not yet,” he decreed in a pant, “trust me, wait.”

     Arthur might have argued but Merlin began to thrust then, choking him with pressure and sensation. Everything blurred together. His need, Merlin’s, the moonlit treetops and the inside of his eyelids. It was all a smear of sweat and feeling and that torturous, carnal build in his sac. “Merlin!” it was a plea, it could be nothing else.

     “Wait,” his lover snarled through his teeth, “I can still give you more than this.”

     A surge of lust ran up his body, so hot it brought tears to his eyes, there was a bloom beneath his sternum, a knot come undone. He cried out, writhed, begged, totally and completely at the mercy of this marvelous, monstrous thing in his blood. Merlin changed his angle, struck a chord there in that forbidden channel that sent lightning throughout him, stealing his vision in brief, giddy strikes.

     “Please, please-”

     “Yes, now.”

     His own hand on his cock felt foreign and he didn’t know if it was because his mind was shattered or because Merlin had magicked it so. Either way he pumped himself fervently, matching Merlin’s thrusts as they became harder and faster.

     It didn’t take long, not with his body so alight. A fistful of seconds, hardly a minute and he was cumming hot all over himself. Merlin moved above him for only a few moments longer and then stilled. Arthur felt the pulsing of his cock like the heartbeat in his chest and when Merlin pulled out he felt empty in more ways than he knew were possible but he could say nothing of the kind, his tongue gone lazy and his breath still labored.

     “Arthur?” Merlin rocked back on his heels, watching him, his bare form glistening with sweat like stardust across his flesh.

     “I’m fine.” he managed, sitting up, only just now noticing the chill in the air. “Sticky, but fine.”

     Rising, the warlock made a small noise somewhere between an affirmation and a dismissal before waving his hand in his direction. “There’s a stream about a hundred yards that way. Be quick. I’ll check the bodies for provisions.”

     “What?”

     “We’re running low.” his pants were thrown at him along with a disparaging look, “I’ll see what there is to take.”

     Arthur gaped, trousers held near his head in the position he’d caught them in, utterly bewildered as Merlin stalked off into the dark as if they’d not just fucked in a field of dead Saxons.


	18. Echo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~ 
> 
> Well, I hope no one wants to end my life by the end of this chapter. However, if you're feeling rather 'killy' afterward, please note that I am one of those creatures who adamantly pursues happy endings.

     Aithusa was screaming again and for once he welcomed the pain it caused. Her howling was both a punishment for and a reflection of his sins. He deserved this and not because he’d taken advantage of a married man, but because he wasn’t sorry. There was remorse, of course there was, and it was an acidic taste in his mouth, but it wasn’t the right sort. It wasn’t guilt, but regret. Regret that he could not continue to do it.

     Merlin gasped for air as the dragon screeched, summoning him with his anger, clawing at his mind desperate for salvation and vengeance all at once. The creature wanted retribution and rest the same as he did. They both wanted that fate that circumstance had stolen. He dry-heaved again and then splashed his face with cool water from the stream with shaking hands.

     "Isn’t there some sort of spell to block it out?” Arthur inquired unhelpfully from the large rock he was sitting on a few yards away. The sound of his voice grated against his brain like scales against Aithusa’s bonds and he scowled at his companion.

     "We won’t find him if I do. The closer we are the louder he is.”

     "What do you plan to do with him once you do find him?”

     _Have him set you on bloody fire for talking so much_. He thought, annoyed, though his only verbal response was a disapproving grunt as he forced himself to his feet despite the wavering scenery. And then came a sound he wasn’t sure was real, a faint chirping, a beeping almost, accompanied by a tightening in his chest. The world toppled sideways and for a moment everything went white around him, his limbs went numb, his face tingled. His mouth went terribly dry and something was wrong with his throat, it felt as though something thin and smooth was being shoved down it, a snake or a centipede or a tube. It was wrong and he could no longer distinguish between himself and the dragon crying in his head.

     "Arthur.” the plea was choked and frightened, but then the king was there, patting his face gently and looking down with eyes that matched the sky that was blessedly coming back into color.

     "What’s going on?” Panic not assuaged, Merlin took in great lungfuls of air and clung to Arthur’s tunic. He pressed his head into his shoulder, listened as the heartbeat thundered alive and real just beneath a not imagined sternum. The king shifted into a sitting position, bringing him closer. “Merlin?”

     This was the closest Arthur had been to him for the past two days and it gave him a reassurance that he hadn’t known he’d needed. “I don’t want to wake up.” he confessed in a voice so broken he hardly recognized it as his own. The tightness in his chest was there again, suffocating and painful, but it was a discomfort he was familiar with and not that strange phantom hurt from before.

     Grief.

     He’d rather die than wake up from this. Tears were burning hot on his face and Aithusa shared his sorrows with bellows that shook his spine, or, perhaps his own hitched breathing to blame for the quaking. He couldn’t tell in the blur reality had become and the only thing real thing there was in that moment was Arthur.

     "Damn it, Merlin,” the man breathed into the top of his head, cool hand taking firm ownership of his jaw, “don’t be such a girl.” There was a sad smile on the monarch’s face when his chin was lifted to look at him. "After all,” he went on softly, “if you’re a girl, what that hell does that make me?”

     The kiss was gentle and swift, very unlike all of Arthur’s usual brutishness and Merlin accepted it cautiously. “A prat.” he answered shakily when their lips parted.

     Aithusa quieted, leaving only a lingering ache in his skull where she’d once been and he reluctantly disengaged himself from the other man’s arms and moved away to splash more water on his face. What was Arthur doing? Magic had not been involved in that. His fingers brushed across his mouth as he tried to rinse the flush from his cheeks. Sex was one thing but gentleness, warmth, a need to comfort with mouths and arms instead of a slap on the back and sarcastic comment, that was something else entirely. Something Merlin had felt for eons already and something that would kill Arthur to begin feeling now. Sin was fine. Sin could be reasoned away, forgiven, forgotten, but the warmth and want that love brought would turn bitter and painful like cancer in the king’s soul when he returned back to his wife. Because Gwen could not be Merlin, and Merlin could not be Gwen. The two of them could not exist together in the same way without Camelot coming to ruin around Arthur’s ears.

     But fuck if he didn’t want to try. If this was just a delusion on the other side of a waiting futuristic nightmare, then why shouldn’t he enjoy it? Why shouldn’t he have Arthur how he wanted, when, where and for whatever reason? His guts knotted up in answer. Because there was a chance, however small, that this might be real, in which case he’d already screwed things up tremendously.

     He stole a glance over at Arthur who was sitting where he’d left him, watching. “We should be going.”

     Arthur nodded and they went together back to the horses. Merlin went instinctively to Arthur's to check the saddle and for once the king didn't scold him. Alternatively, he stood at the mare's front, absently stroking her nose. "Merlin."

     "Hm?"

     “Do you- uh- do you think I’ve behaved admirably throughout my life?”

     He covered his apprehension with a snort, "Well, you were sort of a prick there for a while.”

     “A spoiled prince, I know. I meant- I’m a good king?”

     “Yes, Arthur, you are.”

     "Even after what we did?”

     “Yes, even after what I did.” The words wore frosted as they left his lips and he moved to his own horse to avoid their chill.

     “What if I wanted to do it again?”

     What the hell was Arthur thinking? God, this was not good. He mounted his ride and looked out into the trees. "Then I’d say you're a decent king, but a terrible husband.”

     "And if I wanted to be a terrible husband?”

     “It’s not in you to be terrible.” And that was the truth. He signaled the horse to a trot and left Arthur behind and hopefully the subject as well.

     “I once killed a man to appease my uncle.” Arthur called, mounting and catching up with him, looking dashing and immaculate as he moved with the horse like he was apart of it. Merlin was careful not to stare.

     "That was-”

     “Terrible.”

     Yes. It had been, but really, Merlin's opinion of terrible had changed multiple times over his life. Nothing they could do now would ever be as horrendous as religious crusades or concentration camps or atomic bombs, but Arthur couldn't know that. "This is different."

     "What if-"

     "No." He had to stop this now because he knew it wouldn't take much persuading at this point to push him to say fuck it all and have his own way. He was tired and he was annoyed and mostly, he was just completely done playing the good guy. "It was magic. You were under the influence of something out of your control. If I were to do anything like that to you now, you'd hate it. This isn't how you are, Arthur, so let it go."

     "Everyone is always saying that." The king snapped, "This isn't how a prince would act! This isn't the king I know you can be! That's not how you really feel!"

     The horses snorted and Merlin soothed his with a pat on the neck and soft words. He had none for his king.

     "Listen," Arthur went on, "Things have been- I've always felt close to you, Merlin. I mean not- well you know, or maybe- I don't know. Like you said, I never thought it was an option. I knew I needed you, I just didn't know how much and I do love Gwen but if it came down to it, I mean really, truly no other choice, her life or yours... it'd be yours. Always yours."

     "Don't say things like that." Merlin hissed before he could help himself. "That's not okay."

     "Why? Didn't you put _my_ life above everything and everyone else?"

     That wasn't the same. "This isn't real." The real Arthur could hardly fathom simple magic let alone homosexuality and definitely not after only a few days. This king was just a reflection of his inner desires playing out in some fucked up deathbed delusion. There was no way-

     "Would you stop!" Arthur pulled his horse around to block the path. "This is real! This is happening! We need to deal with it!"

     "And how do you propose I do that?"

     "I don't know! Wave your hands in the air, say some silly words! I don't care, just do something!"

     They stared at each other. The horses shifted restlessly. Birds fled the trees. Carefully, Merlin spoke, "Are you asking me to erase your memory or are you asking me to prove to you that you won't like it while you're not under magical influence?" Arthur opened his mouth to speak but Merlin held up his hand, "I want you to think carefully."

     “Merlin-”

     “Think! Arthur, think about it!”

     The king threw his hands in the air, “I have been thinking about it! That’s the problem! I haven’t _stopped_ thinking about it for the last two days! I tried keeping away from you, I tried thinking of Gwen but nothing, _nothing_ I have done changes this twisting in my chest when I look at you. And then you fell back there and called my name and- and- why was kissing you the first thing I thought to do?”

      “Because you’re confused.”

      “I’m not!”

      “It’s not real.” The lie came easily, like the flow of magic in his soul. “Whatever happened between us when I brought you back to life, the way Kilgarrah showed you my memories, shared our feelings, it’s done something to you. It’s just an echo of my want of you lingering.”

      “You think so?” 

      The relief was evident in Arthur’s tone and it cemented Merlin’s resolve. Arthur didn’t want to feel this way about him, he wanted things to go back to normal. “Yes. I’m sure it will fade in time and if it doesn’t, I’ll find a way to make it.” he smiled to shield the agony ripping through his being, “I’ll just be careful not to use strong magic around you for a while.”

      Nodding, the blond turned his horse, “Alright. Thank you, Merlin.”

      Maybe this wasn’t a dream after all. “No problem.” Maybe this was Hell.

 

 

 

 

 


	19. Noise

      An echo. 

      It sounded like a viable explanation and if Arthur wanted to, he could fool himself with it, let Merlin’s words erase his apprehension as they always had before. But that wasn’t fair. He now knew how those stretched truths and easy lies had hurt the man, how they had weighed upon his heart and turned him bitter.

     Arthur threw another log into the fire and glanced over at Merlin who had fallen asleep hours ago and had not stirred once. The firelight danced across his features, shadowing the hollows around his eyes and beneath his stunning cheekbones. It made him look like a haunted thing, fragile and beautifully sculpted. The man looked tragic in a way that made Arthur feel want to be the hero he’d once thought himself. 

      If this pain in his chest now was only an echo, then there had to have first been a sound. Whether it had been Merlin to make it or himself, he didn’t know, but it was real and reverberating within his soul in a frequency he was not a stranger to. Merlin was wrong. Arthur had felt  t his way before, but he’d been afraid of the noise.  He’d covered his ears and his heart and occupied the space where it played with battle and politics and Gwen, because Merlin was magic and melody and madness. Things he could not himself master,  things he could not understand and therefore  could not  deal with properly. 

     There had always been something about Merlin that he’d loved. First, he loved the idea of kicking his  sassy arse , because the man had called him out in front of his friends, made a fool of him despite his title, even then striking a deep place inside of him that no one else had dared to touch. Then he’d loved his loyalty, his selflessness, the sincerity in everything he did, even when he was lying. After that, he’d loved the man. The man who both stood up to and stood next to him without hesitation, or apology. And then, at the very end, he’d simply loved. Even when there had been nothing left of the man he thought he knew, when everything he’d believed in had been taken away,  he’d loved Merlin . There’d been no reason to still desire Merlin’s presence and yet he’d pled to be held, had wanted to be near him, to feel his warmth as his limbs grew cold. He’d bloody died wanting to comfort Merlin’s heartbreak. 

      An echo was a proof of sound, and he heard it now, amplified and distorted but not false. Tears gathered in his eyes as the circumstances wrought havoc on his morality and he scrubbed them away, angry with himself and with his life. He knew as well as Merlin that this could not go on between them, not the way they both wanted. He was a king and a husband. There was no place for this twisted, enchanted music singing out so clearly to him now, no matter how much he  enjoyed the pitch or rhythm.

     It would be better to forget he’d ever heard it, but he knew Merlin wouldn’t. All this time it had been there and Merlin hadn’t tuned it out but embraced it, let it eat away at him night and day, lived with it for his sake. Arthur didn’t have the right to be free of it now, either. If there was suffering to be endured, they would share it just as they should have shared everything from the start. 

     The tears wouldn’t stop. It was painful to know he’d lost before he’d ever really had, and there was guilt and shame in the mix to cement the upset. It wouldn’t be as hard to look at Gwen as it would be to not look at Merlin. Merlin, who had never betrayed him, Merlin who he trusted above anyone else, Merlin who laid sleeping inches away with plush lips parted begging to be kissed, a temptation that would forever be within his reach and eternally unattainable.  And Gwen would know. She’d see through him in an instant. Hell, she already had, hadn’t she?

      “ I know it hurts,” Merlin’s voice was soft, barely heard over the snap of the flames, “I can take it away.”

      “ I don’t want you to do that.” he growled, forcing his eyes to cease their treason, “It’s not your watch yet. Go back to sleep.”

      “I can take over.”

      “ I won’t sleep, so it doesn’t matter.” 

      Merlin rose and came to sit next to him, knees drawn up and eyes on the fire. “I take it you’ ve actually been thinking, then?”

      “Yes.”

      “And you know what has to happen?”

      His throat felt raw, as if the affirmation  was wearing blades. “Yes.”

      “It’ll be okay, Arthur.”

      “When we get back to Camelot, it’ll have to be.” He confirmed, “But until then, can we- be together?”

      “That’s not wise.”

      Arthur laughed bitterly and flashed his palms.  “Does it really matter anymore?”

      “ It should,” Merlin sighed, throwing a bit of bark into the flames, “bu t I meant it when I said I was tired, Arthur. I don’t have any fight left in me.”

      “ I’m sorry you’ve been so alone all this time.” 

      “And I’m sorry  that I brought you into this, that  I’m unnatural in more ways than  I can count .”

      That was enough. It was enough and too much and lacking all at the same time. He pulled Merlin to him, crushed him to his chest. “I told you didn’t I?” he murmured, “That I didn’t want you to change?”

      “But-”

      “No. I meant it then, and I mean it now. I love you.  Not like I love Gwen. I love you in my soul, so deep I couldn't be rid of you if I wanted to be.” Finally. Finally, here were the words and they were flowing. “ So, stay with me, in whatever way you can, for whatever reason you want, but don’t you ever try and take these moments from my memory.” 

      “Arthur, there’s no reason for you to have to feel this way when I can take it from you.”

      Pulling back, Arthur took Merlin’s chin in his hand and met his eyes. “There are plenty of reasons, but the only one you need is that I don’t want you to do it. Promise me that you won’t.”

      Merlin looked rebellious for a moment and then closed his eyes. “I promise.”

      “ Good.” he smiled, heart pounding  and  desperate to erase  the pain with something, anything else. “ Are we safe here?”

      “ I’d have to use magic to be sure.”

      “Perfect.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies~ I don't usually update twice in a week but I'm trying to get things squared away. I know how I'm going to end this now and I'm really excited. However, I don't like to rush endings so it may be a few more chapters yet. I have a lot of other fics to work on and some original works I'm trying to get finished as well. So, if you don't hear from me for a while just know that I will be back and I'm sorry in advance for frustrations caused by my probable lack of updates!


End file.
